


Sole Survivor

by gladiatorgrl2703



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic, Fallout 4
Genre: All for the Game characters in Fallout 4 Universe, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Fallout, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Blood and Violence, Crossover, F/F, F/M, Ghouls, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Multi, My First Fanfic, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2018-11-02 10:36:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 24
Words: 107,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10942761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gladiatorgrl2703/pseuds/gladiatorgrl2703
Summary: Andrew Minyard didn’t have a reason for surviving the wasteland until Kevin Day came looking for protection. And now Neil Josten is making appearances across the city. This mysterious newcomer, running from his past and towards the people who murdered his mother. He’s spent the last 200 years cryogenically frozen, and this new world—for all its ghouls, and monsters, and hardships—offers the first real freedom he’s ever known. As Neil searches for answers, he latches onto to both the possibility Kevin keeps dangling in front of him and the protection Andrew is offering. But neither of these is going to help him escape his past. And he’s running out of places to hide.--Kevin was less cryptic. “Why do you have this?”“None of your business,” Neil spat.“Uh-uh-uh,” Andrew tutted, raising a knife to Neil’s throat. “Try again.”“None of your fucking business,” Neil corrected, deciding that if he was going to die in the wasteland, a knife to the throat wasn’t a bad way to go.Andrew smiled something manic, and blasted a fist into Neil’s injured side. “You’re a lot funnier when you’re writhing in pain,” he decided.





	1. Here There Be Monsters

Neil knew, without sparing a glance up from where he was kneeling beside his pack, the exact moment that someone spotted him through a scope. He abandoned his search for bandages and shrunk against the rusted paint of a gutted vehicle, breathing slow, silent breaths as he waited to see if anyone would shoot.

A moment passed before he unclipped his Pip-Boy from his arm and stowed it under the dash of the car. Regret tugged at his stomach as he saw the blip on the GPS fade to nothing, but he pushed the thought from his mind. He could come back for it later. For now, he needed to disappear.

Thankful to be near the creek, Neil ducked further down into the bushes surrounding the car, hoping the so-called wasteland camouflage Trashcan Carla sold him fit its description adequately.

 _I’m not even three miles from the Sanctuary_ , he thought bitterly as he moved at a snail’s pace to lose his hunter. _Dan will have my head on a platter if I lead them back to the camp._

He moved backwards towards the bend in the road, crouching uncomfortably as he tried to keep his head down and body small. Neil could see the drop-off to the creek in his mind, just a few feet behind him. He counted his steps in his head to keep himself calm.

When he felt his boot toe the edge of the ridge he breathed a small sigh of relief and flattened his front against the slope of rocks. The sharp edges threatened to tear the fabric across his waist as he slid himself down, but the only thing that mattered was getting out of sight immediately.

He felt his feet hit the rocky bank and shrunk down to this knees once more, never turning his back to the direction he came from. If he could make it quietly across the water, he could sprint for the patch of dead trees just beyond the other side of the creek. He would be far enough that the sound wouldn’t carry, and he could keep going until he made it to the satellite tower.

 _Just a few quiet footsteps in the water_. He adjusted the positioning of his hands on his gun, feeling a cramp raise along his trigger finger from gripping so hard, and scanned above for any sudden movement.

There was the abrupt crunch of metal on rock, and a blinding blow to his stomach as he turned around to meet his attacker. Metal. Hard and unforgiving as it swung into his side and crunched his bones. The force of the blow sent Neil to his knees, hands raised instinctively to his side as the agony of broken ribs rippled through him. His breathing hitched, and veins bulged across his neck as he tried to get down even a single breath.

“Caught him,” a voice said nonchalantly from above. It was distinctly male, though even in Raider’s armor the figure standing over Neil looked small. His nose and mouth were covered, hair tucked under a metal helmet. Neil couldn’t shake the look of amusement shimmering in the man’s hazel eyes.

Neil felt a stream of guttural profanities pour out of his mouth, but couldn’t hear what he was saying over the ringing of pain in his ears.

“See what he’s got and let’s get out of here,” another voice said, not too far off. “We’ve already wasted enough time tracking him from Lexington.”

From Lexington. Neil felt his stomach flop to the ground. Had he slipped? Been so careless in his crusade across the Commonwealth? If these two could track him then who else was on his trail?

“Eager to get home, Kevin?” the first man taunted, examining Neil’s face with vague interest.

Neil needed to leave, now. He tried to bring his gun up to his assailant, pain shooting up his side as he moved. It was kicked lazily out of his hand before he could even raise it all the way. The man knocked him onto his back. He pinned Neil’s wrist hard against the ground with his boot before kneeling to curl his fingers around Neil’s throat.

“Let’s go, Andrew. I hear Vertibirds flying towards us,” Kevin said nervously, walking closer to the two men.

“Don’t want to keep our military friends waiting,” Andrew decided after a moment of deliberate silence. He threw Neil’s pack towards the larger boy with his free hand before pulling Neil’s helmet off.

“Leave me alone,” Neil snarled as Andrew tossed the helmet off the side. Neil made every attempt to crawl away, but Andrew held fast to his neck. He pressed his other hand onto Neil’s injured ribs.

“Keep still, little rabbit. If you play nice, we might let you run free.”

Neil felt his nostrils flare, and though Andrew wasn’t letting up on stopping his supply of oxygen, he reached out in an attempt to push him off anyway. Agony ripped through Neil’s body at the movements, but he yanked Andrew’s bandana down and managed an inconsequential shove regardless. Andrew allowed Neil back onto his knees, but didn’t remove his fingers from his neck. He tilted his head just slightly to the side, examining something in Neil’s eyes before jabbing a finger sharply into his injured rib.

“Find anything good?” Andrew asked Kevin. He made no attempt to look his way and no attempt to reapply his bandana. Instead he watched with mild amusement as Neil writhed about in pain, hissing profanities.

“He’s got a courser chip,” Kevin said quietly, looking down at the small metal object in his broad metal hand. Neil grew very cold and very still. He knew that Andrew felt it happen, his eyes narrowing as Neil’s neck stiffened underneath his palm.

Neil looked at Kevin for the first time. He could tell Kevin was a tall man even without the metal Power Armor encasing his body. He was missing a helmet, which Neil found to be odd, and his face was too pretty to have been on the ground for that long. _Brotherhood of Steel, by the looks of him,_ Neil decided. _But why would he care if a Vertibird found him?_

Neil’s eyes went towards the small object in Kevin’s hands, and it only took two seconds before he was reaching out towards Kevin with a ferocity that shook Andrew’s grip and damned his own injuries.

Andrew’s eyes were dead, though the stiffness in his body told Neil he was mildly surprised at the speed with which Neil darted his hand out and snatched the courser chip away. Neil didn’t make it far, despite willing himself to keep moving. Andrew didn’t even have to apply that much force when he kicked his stomach lazily.

“Interesting,” Andrew noted quietly, starring heartlessly down at Neil’s face as he seized up once again in pain.

Kevin was less cryptic. “What have you got one of these for?”

“None of your business,” Neil spat.

“Uh-uh-uh,” Andrew tutted, raising a knife to Neil’s throat. “Try again.”

“None of your fucking business,” Neil corrected, deciding that if he was going to die in the wasteland, a knife to the throat wasn’t a bad way to go. Clean, quick, and cosmically predictable.

Andrew smiled something manic, and blasted a fist into Neil’s injured side. “You’re a lot funnier when you’re writhing in pain,” he decided.

“What is it for?” Kevin demanded over Neil’s cries.

“I just found it. I don’t know what it is,” Neil said, hating the whine in his own voice as he struggled to breathe.

“You’re lying,” Andrew said, all his previous humor gone.

“I’m not. I know I can sell it for a good price. I was heading to Bunker Hill to see what I could get for it.”

“No one there would buy this,” Kevin said firmly. “Old Man Stockton would never go for it.”

“Vertibirds aren’t far out,” Neil said, looking up towards the sky. He could see the large black aircraft making its way to them now. “They’ll spot you miles out in that thing.” He threw his chin towards Kevin’s Power Armor, hoping they had a better sense of self preservation than he did.

Kevin seemed torn, wanting to keep questioning him, but Andrew had clearly made up his mind.

“Let’s slit his throat and get out of here.”

Kevin hesitated, trying to decide what to do.

Neil waited a breath before trying to make his break. His fingers coiled around the lead pipe Andrew had used to jump him, and headed right for Kevin’s exposed head.

A whack of cold, hard metal struck Neil’s chest, shooting him backwards and flattening him against the ground. Kevin shook his arm out, feeling the sting of metal against his bones, flexing and unflexing his muscles in an attempt to soothe them.

“I don’t know how you’ve lasted this long out here,” Andrew said, amused as he examined Neil spluttering for breath and struggling to remain conscious. “Should have run when you had the chance.”

“Fuck you both,” Neil managed to spit out.

Andrew reached down where the courser chip had fallen to the ground and pocketed it.

“Better luck next time.”

Andrew raised two fingers to the side of his helmet in a lazy salute, dropping the pipe onto Neil’s chest with a wide menacing grin before turning to walk away. Neil felt his neck stiffen under the pressure to move. He couldn’t fight the image of Andrew’s manic smile as his eyes fell closed.


	2. Out of Time

Neil registered the sound of his panting well before he realized he was conscious. His vision was white, and his breathing quickened as he realized he couldn’t move. Panic set in immediately.

There was the sound of muffled voices and Neil suddenly remembered he was locked in a thick metal box. His vision faded back, but there was little to see in the tiny glass window of his container. Two figures--one dressed in a Hazmat suit--the other a middle aged man, stood in the space between the two rows of cryogenic chambers. Neil felt his muscles twitch. The man had his father’s ice blue eyes: hungry and ruthless.

An automated voice echoed through his chamber. “Manual override initiated. Cryogenic stasis suspended.” Neil could suddenly feel his limbs.

“This one here,” the man said, pointing a finger at the chamber across from Neil, the one that held his mother. He watched as Mary woke up, struggling to see or move as she attempted to make sense of her surroundings.

 _This is stupid,_ she’d told him before they had sneaked into the Vault. _We’d have been better off taking our chances with the nuclear blasts._

Neil couldn’t help but feel that she was right. Upon entry, Vault-Tec--the company that produced the entire network of bomb shelters in the United States--took down all their information. It didn’t matter that the names they had provided were false, because Vault-Tec had had access to their bodies this whole time. DNA tests were simple with the technology they had, and Neil now knew that they had now qualms about engaging in morally ambiguous behavior. Though really, neither Neil nor his mother had had any way of knowing the company’s protocol was to trick occupants into being cryogenically frozen.

It wasn’t just a shock to them that the Vault-Tec workers were funneling those who had been sealed in the vault into cryogenic pods under the guise that they would be decontaminated. No one had come down here thinking they were going to be frozen against their will and experimented on.

Still, Neil couldn’t help but resent his mother for saying such a thing. Surely he deserved a chance at survival. What was the point of running this long just to be killed off by a nuclear explosion?

Neil watched as the door to his mother’s chamber was opened, as she struggled to move her limbs, as the person in the Hazmat suit tried to inject a needle into her.

“No,” his mother shouted fiercely, wiggling as much as her paralyzed limbs allowed. The other man grew impatient, raised his gun, and shot her right in the middle of her forehead. Her eyes never left Neil.

Neil felt his throat constrict as a soundless scream ripped through him.

“Take her spinal fluid and let’s go,” the man said gruffly. He began to move closer to Neil, indifferent to his struggling. There was a long scar running down the man’s left eye from his forehead to the middle of his cheek. "We still have the back-up." 

Neil watched as the figure in the Hazmat suit bent Mary’s head forward, extracting fluid with a long needle from the back of her neck. The automated voice sounded from above once again. “Cryogenic sequence reinitialized.” Neil slammed his fist against the glass as it began to freeze over once again, echoes of the man’s words in his ears.

 _No, no, no no,_  he thought, feeling his consciousness slip. _I can’t do it on my own._

Once again, the world began to fade to white. Neil’s breathing quickened as he fought every urge to scream.

* * *

 

There was nothing. And then suddenly, Neil heard his name sharp against his ears. Someone was standing above him. He felt the pressure of their shadow.

 _This is how I die,_ he decided, eyes still shut tight. _All that running and I die alone in my sleep. And having a nightmare of all things._

“Neil!” The voice was sharp. Female. “Open your eyes, you idiot.”

His eyes flew open as he tried and failed to breathe. Pain hit him all at once, coursing through his chest and down his side. The memory faded away as the pain of the day’s events ripped through him, like the shock of coming up from water for air. The residual fear and anxiety still soaked through his limbs, but there was the more pressing need to just keep breathing.

A pair of friendly brown eyes looked down on him, drawn narrow with worry.

“Dan,” Neil muttered, relieved. He closed his eyes once again. Having them open took more energy than he could bear.

“Hey,” she said, a fierce warning in her words. “Don’t you pass out on me.”

Neil opened his eyes halfway to appease her.

Her mouth was drawn tight into a frown, wrinkles from a harsh sun and harsher radiation folded deep around her lips and eyes. The militia hat she normally sported was gone, so that her short dark curls were left exposed to the wind.

“What are you doing lying in the middle of the bank?” she demanded, though she didn’t sound particularly angry. “Someone’ll gut you out here.”

Neil felt her pity roll off of him in waves. It lit a mild flame of irritation in his gut.

“I'm fine,” he muttered.

She helped him sit up, working slowly so she wouldn’t hurt him further.

“Yeah. You look it.” She unclipped a canteen from her hip and handed it to him. "What happened here?" 

“My ribs,” he croaked before taking a sip. Neil was grateful as the cool water hit his lips.

Dan pressed gently on his side and hissed sharply as she assessed the damage.

“Broken,” she declared. “Though they don’t seem to have punctured anything. Who did this to you?”

“Two guys,” Neil said slowly. “One had power armor. The other was dressed in Raider gear.”

“Think they’re with a local Raider party? Or Brotherhood? I haven't seen them work with the Raiders before, but who the hell knows what's going on in the Commonwealth anyway.”

Neil shook his head. “They were on their own.”

“They left you alive,” Dan said, not hiding her surprise.

“They looted my stuff first,” Neil said bitterly.

She threw a glance at his pack. He knew from the expression on her face they’d hardly left a thing.

“Take anything important?” she asked.

It felt like a test to Neil. Dan had to know he was hiding something. He hadn’t exactly been forthcoming in providing information about himself. He'd claimed amnesia, and until now that had been satisfactory for her. 

Danielle Wilds. Leader of the Commonwealth Minutemen.

He’d only just met her two days ago, when he’d helped save her group out in Concord. The place had been overrun by Raiders--an unorganized but annoyingly deadly faction of survivors--and a Deathclaw--what Neil could only describe as a two-story radioactive lizard.

He didn’t do it out of the kindness of his heart and he hadn’t been shy in letting Dan know that. He’d done it for survival. He needed information on what this world was and they were the first people he’d happened upon.

Dan had remained unfazed by this half-confession Neil had given to her. “No one agrees to help take down a Deathclaw for someone else when they can run away. You’re one of us now, like it or not,” she’d said, dismissing his explanation immediately.

She had agreed to tell Neil what he wanted to know about the Commonwealth as long as he helped them migrate to a new settlement. A place called Sanctuary.

“I’d recognize that blue bodysuit anywhere,” she’d told him, pointing a finger at the Vault-Tec suit Neil had been wearing. He didn’t like the way it made him stand out, but he couldn’t deny that the thick material was helpful for both avoiding the claws of creatures wandering around and shielding his skin from the radiation that flowed up from the ground. Besides, he hand't come across any other clothing since exiting the vault. 

“You’re either from the vault to the North or you’ve raided it. Either way, you know where Sanctuary is. You’ll take us there, and I’ll tell you what you need to know. Yeah?”

It was true, Neil had known where it was. Sanctuary Hills was the neighborhood Neil was squatting in with his mother before they snuck into Vault 111. It was decimated now, but Neil saw the appeal. From what he’d seen after exiting the vault, Sanctuary Hills was empty, and there were still a few solid structures that had been left standing. It was a good place--a quiet place--for a settlement.

It had been two days since Neil had agreed to bring them, Dan and four others. Two days since Dan told Neil it was 2287, 210 years later than he thought it should be.

Dan couldn’t provide much history on how the area surrounding Boston had changed. Just that there had been a war--The Great War--that launched the entire world into a nuclear apocalypse. No one referred to it as Boston anymore. This was the Commonwealth now, and those who weren’t killed in the initial blasts have been trying to survive it since.

210 years.

Neil still felt uncomfortable knowing his body had remained exposed, defenseless, and in one spot for over 200 years. And it still felt surreal that what felt like no more than 5 days ago he’d been ushered into a cryogenic chamber for decontamination, his mother still alive and at his side. Now he was here, lying in the pitiful bank of a radioactive river.

Neil felt instinctively that he should be afraid. He was living in a world where a hundred different things could kill him. But his father and all of his father’s people were long dead. Even though someone clearly knew who he was, where he was, and wanted him as a backup for he couldn’t begin to imagine what, the man he had spent half his life running from was 200 years in the past. With everything that had happened in the past few days, Neil hadn’t had nearly enough time to appreciate that.

And now, struggling to breathe a full deep breath, he felt robbed of the happiness he should be feeling.

He moved away from these thoughts, bringing himself back to the question Dan had asked. _Anything important?_

“I had a courser chip,” Neil said after a moment of calculation. He hadn't wanted her to know he’d had it, but it was gone now anyway. She might have some insight on how to get it back.

Her eyes widened and he noticed her move away from him slightly.

“What were you doing with one of those?”

Neil knew the question was coming, but he still didn't have a suitable lie. He was finding those to be harder and harder to come by.

“I found it in the vault,” he said. It was a half-truth, but it was all he could muster.

“In the vault,” Dan repeated, surprised. “Neil.” Her words were so stiff it put him on edge. “Do you know what a courser chip is?”

In truth, he didn’t. He hadn't even known the name of the small metal object until he’d heard it spoken by Kevin. But he’d seen it dropped by the mysterious figure in the Hazmat suit and he knew it would give him answers somehow.

“A courser chip is a mechanism used to enter the Institute,” Dan explained once it was clear he wasn’t going to answer her.

“Okay,” Neil said, confusion dripping into the single word. “What’s there?”

Dan gave him a pitying look. He could see it all over her face--she was both amazed and suspicious that he was alive in this world. 

“The Institute…I don’t even know what to say about them. There are a lot of rumors, a lot of fear, Neil. They are scientists, I guess. No one really knows a whole lot about them, except that they take people. In the middle of the night, without a trace. Replace them with robots they make so you can’t even tell the difference.” Dan shook her head, either not wanting to believe the rumors or not wanting to speak about it any more. “No one knows where they are, who they are, or what they are capable of. Best to stay away, that’s my advice. Though if you have a courser chip, you have a way in.”

“Okay,” Neil said, struggling to make sense of everything he was learning. “Well, where can I find another courser chip?”

Dan laughed outright. Neil could tell she didn't mean to by the look of embarrassment that spread to her eyes. “Neil. You can’t. I don’t know how it is even possible you found the first one to begin with.”

Neil’s frustration settled in his furrowed brow. “So what, that’s it?”

“Yeah, that’s it,” she said. After a moment she snorted. “You’d have better luck trying to track down those guys who took it from you than getting your hands on a new one.”

She’d meant it as a throw away comment. Neil realized it only a second after he responded.

“Then I’ll do that.”

Dan shook her head, looking ready to object outright. Instead she just let out a sigh, knowing she was going to help him regardless of his insane plan.

“If you want gossip on the Commonwealth you’ll want to head to Diamond City,” she said. “I have a contact there. A reporter, Allison Reynolds. She’ll be able to lead you on the right track.”

“Diamond City,” Neil said, nodding.

“I already know you won’t let me come with you,” Dan said as she squinted at Neil. He had no idea what she was searching for in his expression, but it put him on edge. “Take Dogmeat. You’re the only one he’ll listen to and he keeps digging up my crops anyway.” She didn’t wait for Neil to say anything else. “Diamond City is across the bridge. I’ll show you on your map.”

“I stowed my Pip-Boy in an abandoned car 600 yards west of here.”

“We can grab it on our way back to camp,” Dan said, gathering Neil’s pack as she stood up.

At the look on Neil’s face she shook her head fiercely. “Oh no. I’ll be damned if I send you out in the middle of the night to the center of the Commonwealth without patching up your ribs first. And don’t even argue you with me on this, you need medicine if you’re going to make it anywhere. Despite your amnesia it is still an essential requirement to breathe out here.”

Neil hesitated a moment, but knew that ultimately she was right. He let Dan help him up, slumping over slightly in an effort to feel less pain.

“They got you pretty good,” Dan commented as they hobbled back to camp.

“You should have seen them, Dan. It was…” Neil struggled to describe what had transpired. He couldn’t keep the wonder from his voice.

Dan looked at him sideways, silently appraising something he couldn’t comprehend.

“Yeah, Neil. It sounds like they were pretty incredible.”


	3. Public Knowledge

The Third Rail was a pre-war subway station turned bar frequented by some of the most notorious individuals of the Commonwealth. At a table in the back corner, behind the metal gates of the subway turnstiles, sat four of the Third Rail’s best and brightest. The place was crawling with people drifting through the settlement; mercenaries, murderers, people drugged out of their minds. Yet, no one dared to disturb the meetings of these strange boys. The two small blond twins, with enough manic malice in their gazes to turn even the most aggressive Raiders docile. Their cousin, with a bright smile, warm brown skin, and charisma that betrayed any relation to them. And the man who left his Power Armor at the door, sitting a foot taller than all the rest, floating on a thundercloud made of pompous pride and vodka. Andrew headed the table, back to the wall and front toward the stairs. Anyone who entered the Third Rail was greeted with him on first sight.

Technically the Third Rail was only a bar. Whitechapel Charlie--the Pre-War robot who served as the bartender--only sold alcohol. If you wanted drugs, you bought your chems at the abandoned Hotel Rexford next door. Still, no one stopped anyone from shooting up here, and Andrew liked to think it had a better atmosphere than a lone hotel room. It was a good place for him to take his pills, because no one questioned him on it like they might in Diamond City or other settlements. Everyone stuck to their own business, which meant Andrew could gather intel from the sidelines without being bothered by someone coming up to the question them. 

Andrew stared at the courser chip he’d swiped with narrowed eyes as he rolled it through his fingers. He hadn’t even touched the glass of whiskey that had been set in front of him, too lost in deliberation. Nicky commented as much when he came back with another tray of drinks. 

Andrew looked up at his cousin, looked through him really. Nicky’s grin didn’t falter. 

He deposited the contents of the glass into his mouth. “Better?” 

Nicky set a fresh glass of whiskey in front of him and flashed another smile. “Now it is.” 

Andrew took a moment to appraise the men gathered around him. His twin, Aaron. His cousin, Nicky. And of course, Kevin Day. He felt sudden and violent irritation that they were in his presence, the displeasure just barely pricking through the fog of the chems. He looked away from them, drawing his attention back to the device. 

He couldn’t get the image of the man out of his mind. That hideous blue vault suit stashed in his pack. Those ridiculous blue eyes under his helmet. The auburn roots working their way through black hair dye. And his indignant attitude and misplaced fear. There was something suspicious that Andrew couldn’t yet work out. Something was…amiss. 

“You think he’ll try to come back for it?” Kevin asked. Andrew didn’t miss the small spark of eagerness that played in the back of his voice. 

“That’s why you should have killed him outright,” Aaron said before Andrew could respond. 

Andrew turned his attention to his twin, giving him a blank stare. It was a challenge to say something, to question his decision one more time. Aaron settled his attention back to his drink. 

“Why do you care?” Andrew asked Kevin, but it wasn’t a question meant for answering. Kevin felt the accusation. He tried his best to ignore it but that didn’t last long.

“We tracked him from Lexington. You saw what he could do. We need him.” 

Andrew was about to make the very valid point that _need_ wasn’t a word he was familiar with, but his brother raised an interesting alternative.

“He didn’t even know who you were,” Aaron said. “What good is he if can’t even recognize you two?” 

“Maybe that’s good for your ego, eh Kevin? Someone who doesn't even recognize you for the shining star you are,” Andrew said. 

Kevin Day was a legend. A thing of both dreams and nightmares. As a Paladin for the Brotherhood of Steel, he’d grown up in the spotlight. Every battle started and ended with him, his ridiculous Power Armor, and those ruthless green eyes. The Brotherhood had all of the money, military technology, and power to claim any settlement and set any agenda they wanted. Mostly, people loved them. Their brand of ruthless was well-respected by anyone who wasn’t their direct enemy. With Kevin as the second in command, he was used to the notoriety that came with their reputation. As a young child he had adjusted to the admiration seamlessly. 

When Kevin was dishonorably discharged from the Brotherhood, everyone thought he would either be executed or go into hiding out of shame. Instead he went North. He started hanging around with Andrew, who had a reputation in his own right as one of the deadliest mercenaries in the Commonwealth. The move confused everyone and there was wild speculation as to what exactly was happening with Kevin Day. But there was hardly anyone who hadn’t heard about it. Fewer people still that hadn’t heard of _them_. 

Andrew did find it suspicious that the man they ran into hadn’t seemed to recognize who they were, and more than that, that he had attempted to fight them. Whoever they were dealing with couldn’t have been very bright. Andrew still couldn’t decide if that was really the case. 

Kevin made an indignant noise. If it was possible to shatter his pride, Andrew hadn’t yet found a way. “Any information he is lacking he can gain under my guidance. What he already has can’t be taught,” Kevin said simply. 

“Sounds like Kevin’s got a crush,” Nicky taunted. “If he’s cute then I call dibs.” 

“I’m saying we could use someone like him,” Kevin said, ignoring Nicky’s teasing. 

“He has no skills. It’s clear he has zero understanding of how the Commonwealth works. Give me one good thing he could offers us,” Andrew said detachedly, swirling the liquid in his glass. Andrew was trying to work it out for himself, too. 

“He’s with the Minutemen,” Kevin revealed, obviously eager to rally the other men. He looked to them for their reactions. Nicky perked up, but Aaron remained unfazed. It was a lame tactic, and Andrew was disappointed he’d utilized it. 

“Thought they were extinct,” Aaron said, pouring himself more vodka. 

“Really?” Nicky asked over Aaron’s rude words, eager gossip as always. “What are they up to now?” 

“They’re busy uniting the Commonwealth,” Andrew said flippantly, swallowing his whiskey. 

The Minutemen were hardly worth his time. He only tolerated Kevin’s asinine attempts to unite the Commonwealth because it was entertaining to watch him struggle with the Brotherhood. The Minutemen were small, inexperienced, and idealistic. But the worst aspect of them was that they were hopeful. Even after they were massacred in Quincy, what little scraps remained of them still held steadfast to their mission. Andrew could never respect someone with that level of blind faith in a better future. It was too pathetic for him to stand. 

“Didn’t realize people were still trying,” Nicky responded thoughtfully. 

“We’re trying,” Kevin said sharply. “If anyone decides to get their heads out of their asses and do some work.” 

No one said anything. Andrew plastered on an amused smile, sending Kevin tornadoing in irritation. 

“All I’m saying is he is fearless. You saw how he is in a fight. His skills are nothing spectacular, but he fights with everything. He’s a survivor.”

“We’re _all_ survivors,” Andrew said glibly. He outstretched his arms in an elaborate gesture. 

“All of us?” Aaron asked, a pointed glance at his twin. Nicky tried to break Aaron’s eye contact, moving his body over the table a bit to direct the conversation back to Kevin.

“What makes him so fearless?” he asked, sparing the quickest glance to gauge Andrew’s reaction.

“He came at me in my Power Armor with broken ribs. He’s willing to do anything,” Kevin said. “Besides, he told Andrew to fuck off.”

“Then that makes him an idiot,” Aaron decided. 

“Maybe,” Andrew allowed. He’d already worked out the alternative in his mind. “Or it makes him desperate.” 

“We have enough desperation with this one,” Aaron grumbled, throwing his chin towards Nicky. 

Nicky grinned brilliantly. “Hell if I’m not a desperate son of a bitch.” 

Andrew was bored with this conversation. Whatever they were doing it wasn’t bringing them any closer to answers. 

“Nicky, Aaron. Head to Diamond City and check in with our favorite detective.” Andrew held the courser chip up so it was eye level. “See what we can find out about our mysterious vault dweller.”

“Oh, hell yes,” Nicky said with a wide smile. “I’ve been flirting my way through this place for too long. Maybe Arturo will finally accept my advances.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Aaron, who made an irritated sound.

“I don’t suppose you’re sending us just for information about some guy?” Aaron asked impatiently. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kevin said. “Like we would waste a trip there on something so trivial. We’ll need supplies. I’ll draw you up a list.”

“Something so trivial, huh?” Andrew asked thoughtfully. His eyes scanned Kevin’s face. 

Andrew could see in the distinct set of Kevin’s jaw that the vault dweller would be his new fixation, but Andrew doubted it would make a difference for actually calling Kevin into action. It seemed that all Kevin had been doing since they’d made their agreement was looking for new men to take under his wing. Like he could somehow make himself taller with the bodies of incompetent fighters.

Andrew’s stare must have unnerved him, because he was suddenly reaching out for the courser chip. His heavily engrained fear of the Institute made his fingers shake as he attempted to make a grab for it. Andrew slapped his hands away, drawing the chip closer to his chest. 

“Quit playing with that ridiculous thing will you?” Kevin demanded. “Who knows what they can hear us saying if they decide to listen in.”

Andrew grabbed Kevin by the harness of his chest armor and pulled him close. “Careful, Kevin. Your paranoia is showing,” he stage whispered. He touched the courser chip against Kevin’s neck. It wasn’t sharp—it was a small metal object the size and shape of a lightbulb—but it sent Kevin flinching violently back. Andrew held tight, and Kevin went completely still as Andrew brought it to his temple. 

Nicky glanced nervously between them. Even with how long the four of them had been dealing with the Institute, they still had no more reliable information on what the Institute--or its technology--could do. It was doubtful that they could listen in on conversations, or read minds, or suck memories from people’s brains, but the rumors still held a special weight throughout the Commonwealth. Andrew enjoyed using that fear to try to awaken something in Kevin. Though it rarely worked, which was as predictable as it was disappointing. 

Eager to fill the silence, Nicky shifted his glass from where it sat on the table and offered his suggestion. “You know we could get that looked at. See if it might tell us anything interesting.”

Andrew kept his hand firm on Kevin, not breaking eye contact as he set the courser chip on the table. Kevin didn’t look uncomfortable anymore, just enraged, but he didn’t move his eyes from Andrew. Andrew liked the hatred in his eyes better than the fear that normally sat there. 

“It’ll tell us about the Institute, and we already know all about that. Don’t we, Kevin?” 

It was a challenge, and Andrew was curious to see if Kevin would accept it. 

Instead he shrugged off Andrew’s hand and reached for the bottle of vodka. “There’s nothing we can learn about the Institute from that little thing. We should focus our energy on Brotherhood of Steel,” he said after taking a long swig. “And we should make information on this vault dweller our top priority. Starting with his name.” 

“What vault is he from anyway?” Nicky asked. 

Andrew looked up at his cousin, feeling his face twist into a smile as he recalled the yellow stitching of the numbers on the back of the vault suit. “Vault 111.” 


	4. Jewel of the Commonwealth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Neil goes to Diamond City

When Neil met Allison Reynolds outside the doors to Diamond City, he was sure there had been a mistake. 

For starters, he was momentarily convinced that the apocalypse hadn’t happened and that he was still in the year 2077. 

Neil stood in front of Fenway Park, staring up at the tall metal and brick walls fortifying the settlement. Maybe it had been silly to think that everything from his previous life had been destroyed by nuclear blasts, but Neil was still surprised to see it standing in one piece. He supposed it also might have been foolish to think that the previous names of places would remain the same over 200 years, but Neil found it slightly unbelievable to think that no one had mentioned the historic ballpark in their description of Diamond City. 

And that was all before he even _saw_ Allison Reynolds. She was spotless, not a speck of dirt or blood on her clothing or skin, and she wore no armor of any kind. Neil wasn’t even convinced she had a weapon on her. Her clothing was stylish and without function of any kind--a red leather jacket and fitted pants with heeled boots. Her hair was so blonde and so clean it made him question there was ever dirt in the world. She wore it like a whip; long, fierce, and unapologetic. She looked like she’d stepped right out of a magazine from his previous life.

With a hand on her hip, she stood in front of an intercom arguing with whoever was inside Diamond City. Listening to her speak, Neil wondered who was stupid enough to try. 

“Look, I won’t ask again. Let me in. I _live_ here.” 

“Sorry, Allison,” a man’s voice answered back. “The Mayor’s really ticked about what you printed.” 

She threw a glance over her shoulder and took Neil in in an instant. He didn’t miss the way her eyes raked critically over every detail of his being. She didn’t spare a glance at the German Shepard at his side. Neil shifted awkwardly but didn’t say a word. 

“What’s that?” she asked suddenly, loudly. “You’re a trader up from Quincy? Enough supplies to keep the general store stocked for a whole month? Hear that, Danny?” she asked the intercom, her words snapping under the pressure of her impatience. “It’ll be your ass if you keep this trader out of the market. Now, let us in.” 

She flashed a dazzling smile at Neil and whispered conspiratorially, “You want in, don’t you?” 

Neil nodded numbly, feeling dreadfully unprepared for this level of human interaction. 

“Dammit, Allison. Fine,” Danny answered back, clearly tired of pretending he could keep up with her. 

The wide metal doors to the park rattled as they rolled up.

“About damn time,” Allison muttered, taking confident strides over the precipice without so much as a glance back at Neil. 

Neil stayed put for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. Dogmeat looked up at Neil from his right side, and barked to call him into action. He pressed a wet nose to the surface of Neil’s palm, and Neil thought, not for the first time, how odd it was to have someone at his side.

“Well, are you coming in or what?” she demanded. 

Neil followed, the doors rolling shut behind him. They were in the concession area of the park, a pre-war sign advertising beverages hung slanted on the wall. On the counters were machine gun turrets. Neil stepped swiftly out of range of each. 

“Allison Reynolds,” she said. “What’s your name and what’s your story?” 

“Neil Josten,” he answered. He didn’t want to waste time with pleasantries. “I came to see you for information.” 

“Information, huh?” she asked, unimpressed by him. Her eyes drifted to Dogmeat but she didn’t extend a hand for him to sniff. “Where’d you travel from?” 

“North of Concord.” 

At this, Allison did seem slightly impressed. “Brave soul. Must’ve taken you about nine, ten hours to make it from there.” She didn’t wait for him to confirm. “Well, let’s get you something to drink then. I don’t like talking outside of my office, and besides you heard the mayor is pissed at me. Rather not have him come down here.” 

With that, she walked up the metal stairs into the park, Neil trailing behind her. As they reach the top, Neil felt his eyebrows furrow in surprise. 

Diamond City was far beyond what Neil had come to expect to be possible in this world. A dozen or so makeshift metal homes and trading stalls circled within the center of the baseball diamond. A four story generator in the dead center of the park. There were a dozen other buildings with signs advertising their uses, and larger, nicer homes on the upper stands of the stadium, overlooking the rest of the market. Dogmeat’s tail began wagging wildly, either sensing Neil’s awe or sensing the protection the city offered. 

“Welcome to the great green jewel,” Allison said flippantly. 

She led him down the metal steps and onto the field. Her home was the first on the left, only a few steps from home plate. A large green sign with PUBLICK OCCURRENCES written on it stood on her roof. Infront of the home were copies of the latest issue of the newspaper. 

Allison’s building was larger than most of the other building, with shinier metal walls. She pulled open a metal door and ushered him inside, pulling the lock shut behind her. 

Each wall was a different shade of red, the floors and roof metal. Neil wondered if they were able to build the whole city by tearing apart the inside of Fenway, or if they had needed even more than that. There was a desk with a typewriter right in the center of the room, a table next to it, with dozens of clipped articles, notes, bottles of brightly colored nail polish strewn about. A kitchen in the back, with a hotplate and a large pitcher of clear water on a single cabinet. A small round table with two chairs served as a dining room. There were stairs off the right to another room where Allison must have slept. She pulled two glasses from inside the cabinet and filled them with water. 

“We boil it each morning,” she said before taking a large gulp. Neil downed the glass in one sip. He knew he probably should take it slow, but his thirst betrayed him. She grabbed a bowl and set some water out for Dogmeat, who lapped it up with greedy, sloppy sounds, before pouring Neil another glass.

“So, what’s your deal?” she said sitting in the chair nearest her. She didn’t bother motioning for Neil to take a seat, there was only one other chair. He sat across from her and decided to choose his words carefully with this reporter. 

“Dan Wilds sent me. She said you might be able to help me find some information.”

“Dan, huh? Shit. Haven’t seen her in a while.”

At this, Neil was surprised. “Aren’t you with the Minutemen?” 

Allison examined Neil for a second, looking over him through a polished nail she had been considering. “Sure, kid. I’m with the Minutemen. Not that that means anything in here.”  She spread her fingers wide in a gesture to Diamond City.  “The Minutemen are a means to an end for me. I was born in these walls, had all of this given to me. But it’s not all sunshine and cupcakes in Diamond City. There’s dark shit, and I want to figure out what it is.” 

“So that’s why you don’t live in the settlement with Dan?” 

Allison let out an irritated noise, clearly bothered by Neil’s questions. “Look, what faction you choose to align yourself with--the Brotherhood, Raiders, Minutemen, Railroad, whatever--is no indication of where you live. It’s about protection, about backup. For most people that means being able to call whoever your allied with when something goes down where you live. Diamond City,” Allison shook her head. “This is Brotherhood territory. Even if everyone pretends it isn’t.” 

“So why not join them?” Neil asked. 

“Are you fucking stupid?” she asked flat out. “Have you met anyone from the Brotherhood?” 

“Jean Moreau,” he said. They’d met briefly at an old police station in Cambridge before his run in with Kevin and Andrew. It hadn’t been a pleasant experience. 

Allison laughed in his face. “Who the fuck _are_ you?” It was meant as a rhetorical question, Neil assumed, because just kept steamrolling along. “If you met Jean, you know how they are then.” She didn’t give Neil a chance to answer. “Assholes,” she said. 

“If what you’re saying is true though, then who cares?” Neil asked. “They protect this place and you’re squared away. If you don’t care about anyones vision for the Commonwealth then why does it matter?” 

“I care about the Commonwealth,” she said, slightly offended. “Make no mistake, the Brotherhood’s agenda is giving themselves more power and protecting their own interests. Their only concern is being number one, regardless of how shitty the rest of us are living. The Minutemen are the only alternative I’ll bother with. They aren’t big, but they actually care about what happens to all us.” 

Neil shook his head, not understanding. “But if you want to protect Diamond City-”

“I want to get under the dirt of this place. Why would I side with the people trying to protect its secrets?” she demanded. She leaned closer to him, dropping her voice. “I know the Institute has infiltrated this place. I don't know where, and I don’t know how they did it. But I’m telling you.” Her eyes were wide. Neil felt the distinct need for her to move out of his personal space. “There’s nothing to be more afraid of in the Commonwealth than the Institute.” 

Neil was unimpressed, though he didn’t say so. He thought of his father, the Butcher of Baltimore, who he’d spent half his life running from and the other half cowering in fear as his anger lashed out onto Neil. He thought of burns from hot irons on flesh, a slip of a knife under skin, broken bones. He could feel the goosebumps form across his chest in recalling those memories. He momentarily felt each scar, reflected the pain associated with each, and shuttered. 

Neil knew what it was to be afraid. What it was to hide from people you didn’t want to find you. Neil wasn’t afraid of scientists. He was afraid of older men with big knives and no patience. 

She interpreted his reaction as proof her point had been made, before leaning back in her chair. She tilted her head, and stared at him down the slope of her nose. 

“I’m more concerned with you right now, though. You say you want information. What about?” 

“Two men jumped me up past Lexington.” 

Now it was Allison’s turn to be unimpressed. “You came here for information because two dudes _jumped_ you? Do you know where you are? Count your blessings you’re not dead and move on.” 

“They took something from me and I need it back.”

“What’d they take?” Allison asked, with narrowed eyes. 

“I can’t say,” Neil said. 

“Then I can’t help,” she said simply. 

Neil remained silent, content to stare at her until she spoke again. It didn’t take long. Neil felt Allison trying to salvage the shreds of potential gossip as she rephrased her demand.

“If it was valuable, it will be easier for me to get word out on it. Find it for you. Especially if it was rare. No one can keep quiet about items like that. People will talk.” 

“I can’t tell you,” Neil repeated. “Like you said, people will talk.” 

Allison raised an eyebrow, but didn’t push it further. She switched to a less private aspect. The seamless transition of a ruthless reporter. 

“Maybe by some grace of god we can get information on who these people were that attacked you. Do you remember?” 

“I do,” Neil said nodding. He was about ready to go into it when a rattling against her metal door had Allison up on her feet and moving. Dogmeat was at Neil’s side immediately, ears perked up and courting low with anticipation. 

“Allison Reynolds, you open this door immediately,” a man’s voice bellowed from outside.

“Shit, come on,” she whispered fiercely, grabbing Neil by his elbow. 

She tugged him through her kitchen and pushed him out the side door of her place. Dogmeat whimpered softly, a way of checking in with Neil. As they moved forward, he lurched into action, slinking in front of Neil to sniff out any potential threats. 

Keeping a firm hand between his shoulder blades, Allison guided Neil through a maze of tightly packed shanty homes, their right side blocked by chained link fencing. They reached a dead end, but Allison moved past him to sandwich herself into the small crevice between two other buildings.

Neil followed her, squeezing through the space she’d slipped through so easily. He sucked in a sharp breath as he did so, the pain in his ribs making squeezing more difficult. Rust from the outside walls flicked away pieces of metal into his skin. There was a sharp pull in his side, and an intense pain as he struggled to breathe. The pain medication Dan had given him had been fierce, easing his ability to take a full breath and help his recovery, but it had still been barely three days. Neil felt good to be moving though, more than used to finding himself in precarious situations with severe injuries. The jolt of adrenaline was almost comforting in it familiarity. 

Allison pulled him into another door as they rounded a corner. 

Neil froze at what he found when he turned around into the room. Half a dozen children, sitting in desks, looked up at him, confusion on their smudgy, innocent faces. 

“A dog. Cool,” one kid let out. 

“Hey, kids,” Allison greeted, ignoring Neil’s freeze-up. “Don’t mind us passing through, do you?” 

“Course not, Ms. Reynolds,” a small girl answered. 

“Mr. Zwicky, out then is he?” Allison asked, gesturing to the empty desk. 

“That’s right,” another student said nodding. 

“Can you do me a favor then? Keep quiet that you saw us, yeah? We’ll just be downstairs.” 

“Yes, Ms. Reynolds.” 

Allison pulled Neil along towards the staircase in the back of the room.

“You have a school here?” 

“Of course. Every child is guaranteed a free public education in Diamond City.” 

She wasn’t paying attention to him, instead sticking her head out the door to assess the situation out in the settlement. Neil hadn’t been that close to other children since he was eight years old. He didn’t quite know how to process the expressions on their faces. Happy expressions. 

“Fucking Mayor,” Allison spat, closing the door again. “Mad about the latest issue of Publick Occurrences, I’m sure of it.”

She looked at Neil, her smile wicked and self-righteous. “He’ll retreat back to his tower above soon enough. Wouldn’t want to spend too much time along the common folk.” 

She deposited herself into a chair and kicked a stool out toward Neil, making a gesture for him to sit. Dogmeat, satisfied with their safety, placed his large head onto Neil’s lap. When Allison didn’t speak again, Neil shifted in his seat. 

“So, do you want me to tell you about these guys?” 

Allison looked up, surprised to find him speaking. 

“No, of course not. You want to find these guys, you need Wymack. I can help out with gossip from the trade lines, and anything Diamond City related, but you want to find a person? That’s our local detective's job. He specializes in the tragic people department. I just write up the details.” 

“So, we are just going to sit here?” 

“You could tell me about you,” Allison said, leaning forward. 

Neil noticed vaguely the fabric of her shirt slide further down her chest as she did so, but he kept his eyes locked right onto hers. There was something, snake-like in her stare. He knew she had no possible hope of ever uncovering anything from him. His mother hadn’t beaten him for every minor interaction with a girl just so he could throw it away now. And yet, he could see it in her eyes. The look that said she thought could break him if she wanted to. 

Neil had to admire her confidence.

“You already know my name,” he said blankly. “And you know I am with Dan. What else do you need to know?” 

“Are you?” she asked. “With Dan?” 

“Of course.” 

Allison squinted. “I don’t believe you.” 

“That’s your problem,” Neil said before he could stop himself. It would do him no good to piss off his only source of information, but he suddenly didn’t care. “Look Allison, I appreciate you helping me, and I appreciate what you are trying to do here with the paper and the city. But I am looking for these people to get back what they took for me and that’s my only agenda. If you don't believe me, fine. I get that. But it’s the truth and it’s all I’m going to say, alright?” 

Allison was silent a whole minute before she broke into a small smile. 

“I can’t wait to bring you to Wymack,” she said finally. “He’s gonna have a field day with you.”

They waited a few more minutes at the bottom of the school house. Neil glanced around a few stray books that had survived the centuries, but other than some dilapidated furniture, there wasn’t much else. 

“Well have to go through Diamond City market. I trust you can keep it quiet enough to get us through without anybody noticing? I really don’t feel like dealing with that asshole Mayor right now.” 

The market was bustling with twenty or so shoppers, haggling at the various stalls. Most of the stores were for basic survival needs: a medic, a butcher, an armorer. Neil glanced lazily from one stall to the other, trying to take in small details about the people as he did so. Neil could blend into any crowd--a trait that had been necessary in his past life--even a tiny one like this. 

It was underneath a large yellow sign with green writing that read: Commonwealth Weaponry that Neil felt his breath jerk. Rage flooded his body, coursing through his veins and into his mind, so that as he took several strides to cross the length of the market he hadn’t even realized he’d moved. 

There was a man lounging lazily across the counter, leaning close to whoever was operating the stall. He had a wide easy smile. Neil barely heard his words as he stalked over. It wasn’t him he was after, but the small blond man who was slumped against the frame of the stall next to him, looking bored. 

Neil shouted, “hey asshole” across the threshold before wrapping his wide hands around the man shoulders, pinning his arms to his side. He was missing the bandana and the military helmet, but Neil would have recognized those hazel eyes and short frame anywhere. 

“Give me my things back before I shake them out of you,” Neil spat. 

The man looked bored, either used to this happening or apathetic about Neil’s prospects. 

The other boy lounging on the counter was suddenly at his side. "Look, there’s clearly some kind of mistake,” he said quickly, waving his hands in front of him in a nonthreatening pose. Dogmeat stepped up as he tried to move closer, barring his teeth. 

“Christ,” the man let out, taking a step back. 

“What the fuck is this, Neil?” Allison asked. “What part of don’t make a scene did you fail to comprehend?” 

Neil gave the man a fierce little shake. “This is him,” he said in explanation. “This is the guy who took my stuff.” 

Allison didn’t have anything to say at that. 

“I’ve never seen you in my life,” the boy said. 

Neil tightened his grip so his knuckles were white. 

“Nicky,” the man behind the shop counter warned. 

“Yeah, Arturo. We’re on it,” he snapped impatiently. He looked to Allison. “A little help here, Reynolds?” 

“The other one, the other one with him,” Allison said quickly to Neil. “Did he have Power Armor? Green eyes?” 

Neil felt his grip slacken slightly as he turned his attention to her. “How did you know that?” 

“You idiot,” she said, bringing her arms down on Neil’s to try and break contact. “That was his brother, Andrew. They’re twins. This is Aaron Minyard.” 

“Twins,” Neil repeated stupidly. His grip had loosened but he didn’t remove his hands. 

“Yeah,” Aaron said. He shrugged off Neil’s hands and shot him an icy look. “God, you are as idiotic as I thought you’d be.” 

Neil didn’t have a reaction prepared for this news. He stared dumbly at the three of them. 

“Let’s get to Wymack’s,” Allison said hastily, looking around at some of the people who were staring at them. “We’ll sort it out there.” 

She started off in that direction, trusting that they would follow. Aaron was the first to move, shooting Neil another fierce look as he passed him. 

“So you’re the vault dweller,” Nicky said next to him, with a curious gaze. “I’m Nicky. Andrew and Aaron’s cousin.” He held a hand out that Neil didn’t take. 

“By blood?” he asked in lieu of greeting the man. 

Nicky’s grin broke out across his face once more. “That’s right.” 

He motioned for Neil to follow Allison and Aaron and fell into step beside him. 

“That was quite a scene you made back there,” he said, his face all smiles. 

“I thought he was someone else. Andrew, I guess.” 

“You wouldn’t live to tell the tale if you put your hands on Andrew like that.” 

Neil knew from the set look of his face that Nicky wasn’t exaggerating. They wound through a path crammed with more metal homes, and on the corner of the path an orange neon sign blinked: FOXES DETECTIVE AGENCY. Underneath the words was an arrow pointing right, leading them down another short alley. 

“I think the orange is a bit much, but no one can claim they don’t know where to find him.” Nicky said, turning into a small passage between two trailers. A big metal door was painted orange, set ajar just slightly, Allison and Aaron having already made their way inside. 

“Wymack,” Nicky called out when they entered an empty office. “Your favorite people are here for a visit.” 

“Joyous day,” an older man’s voice grumbled from upstairs. 

Neil took in the detective agency with a quick gaze. There wasn’t much, a bunch of file cabinets and bottles of unopened alcohol. He turned towards the stairs to see Wymack as he approached. 

Neil barely suppressed a jump when he saw him. “What the fuck,” he breathed before he could stop the words from falling out of his mouth. 

Allison snorted behind him. 

David Wymack was a mess of wires, metal, and loose skin. The left half of his face was exposed, so that the mechanisms of his jaw peaked through. His eyes were two yellow circular lights crammed into human-like eye sockets. He looked like a human, same height as Nicky, with limbs that moved and everything. But it was clear from his fraying skin that he was anything but human. He wore a fedora on his head, and a tan trench coat.

“You don’t know? I’m a synth.” Wymack said, but he seemed mildly amused at Neil’s confusion. It was a reaction he shared with Allison. “Synthetic man. All the parts, minus a few red blood cells.” 

“A synth?” Neil repeated, dumbfounded. There were rumors of synths all over the Commonwealth. Made by the Institute, meant to infiltrate settlements, gather intelligence, kill. But Neil had never seen anything like this before. 

“Look,” he said. “I know the wires and metals parts ain’t comforting, but it doesn’t matter right now. The better question is what the hell are you all doing in my office?” 

“This is Neil,” Allison said. “He was looking for the people that jumped him, but he just found out it was Andrew and Kevin. They took something important from him apparently.” 

“Of course they did,” Wymack said, but there was a strange affection in his voice that confused Neil. “Good to meet you, Neil. I’m David Wymack. I run this operation here. It's not much, but I manage to do a little good every once in a while.”

“Okay,” Neil said, unsure of how to react. 

“What’d the idiots take from you?” 

“Does it matter?” Neil asked, sliding a narrowed glance at Aaron. “It was mine and I want it back.”

“A courser chip,” Nicky said. Aaron shot him a dirty look, and Neil knew even they were supposed to be keeping quiet about it. 

If Wymack was surprised, he didn’t look it. 

Allison instantly tried to jump into questioning.  “A courser chip? You better spill the details.” 

Wymack waved a hand to shut her up.  “What do you need one of those for?” he asked.  His stare unnerved Neil. He wasn’t sure if it was those eyes, or his age, but he didn’t trust him. 

Neil glanced around the room, uncomfortable with everyone watching him. He stuck his chin out slightly.   “I don’t see how that’s any of your concern,” he said. 

“None of our concern?” Allison demanded. 

Aaron took that as an opportunity to scold Nicky. “You never should have said anything.” 

Nicky threw his arms up. “I didn’t mean to spoil it. I thought he would bring it up himself.”

“Everyone out,” Wymack said, not moving his eyes from Neil. At their protests he reiterated, “Get out now. I need to speak with Neil alone.” 

They filed out of his office and into the alley, grumbling indignations as they went. 

Wymack let out a long sigh. “What are you after kid? I’m good at my job. I know how to find stuff. What do you really want?” 

Neil wasn’t sure he understood the question. As he tried to come up with an answer for Wymack, he was suddenly very unsure to what he was doing here at all. He tried to consider what had brought him here. There was a small spark of hope in Neil’s chest. Like, maybe if he could find who killed his mother, what they had kept him alive for, he would feel satisfied. He would stop waking up afraid when the biggest threat to his safety was long gone. 

“I want to find someone. But it’s complicated.” Neil paused. “I don’t know where they could be, or how long they’ve been gone. And I won’t give you any more details than necessary.” 

“Well, I’ve done jobs with less,” Wymack said. “Somehow ‘nice and simple’ never makes it onto the menu in my world.” He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his drawer and held it out to Neil in offering. 

Neil took one without a word and lit it hastily. His fingers shook as he held it, but he focused on watching it burn towards the filter without taking a puff. 

“Rare commodity in the Commonwealth,” Wymack said, but there was no judgement in his voice. Instead he puffed on his own cigarette before speaking. 

“Aaron and Nicky will lead you back to Andrew. I’ll be sure to make them. So, that’ll get you your courser chip back. If you can convince him to give it to you anyway.” Wymack took another drag. “Now, tell me about this person you are looking for.” 

“Someone shot my mother. Contact shot to the forehead,” Neil said. His voice was very still, a practiced reservation in his throat, but it was hard not to feel that urge to scream. 

Wymack said nothing, waiting for Neil to fill in more details. 

“There were two of them. One in a hazmat suit, another a middle-aged man.” 

“Get a good look at the guy?” 

Neil nodded. “Average build. Bald. Long scar running down the left side of his face. He wasn’t wearing any armor, except for a gauntlet along his right arm.” 

“Anything else you remember about him?” 

“He had blue eyes.” 

“Like yours?” Wymack asked. He seemed to be watching Neil cautiously.

Neil nodded, but couldn’t bring himself to say anything else about the matter. He refused to make eye contact with Wymack, though he kept a close eye on his hands. One was metal, the skin having folded away, but the other looked so much like a human hand Neil kept a step out of reach instinctively. 

“Did they say what they wanted from your mother?” 

Neil hesitated, unsure of how much to give away. Deciding it was safest to give as little as possible he left out the rest of the interaction. “No. They idn’t say much of anything." 

Wymack considered this, puffing on his cigarette. “So they are professionals, know how to keep tight lipped on the job. Money behind them if they can afford a hazmat and little armor protection. So, not your average mercenaries. This scar, did it go through the man’s eye?” 

“It did,” Neil confirmed. 

“Kellogg,” Wymack said. “Has quite the reputation in the Commonwealth. Not many people could pull off a job like that and not worry about a survivor. He has no enemies because they’re all dead.” He let that hang in the air. If that was supposed to impress Neil, it didn’t. His father had had plenty of enemies, but that never stopped him from killing anyone he wanted. “It seems likely that he’s the guy,” Wymack said finally.

“Just like that, you know who did it?” Neil asked, thick disbelief coloring his voice. 

“I didn’t say that, did I?” Wymack asked. “It’s a good bet he’s involved. His loyalty is easily bought by the highest bidder, and he matches the description you provided. But there’s no shortage of scars in the Commonwealth, or mercenaries. Either way, it won’t hurt to check him out. He was staying in Diamond City for a while, but he’s run off since. His house is right here in the stands, so it won’t cost you anything to check it out. Do you have strong reservations about breaking and entering?” 

Neil fought an urge to laugh, bitterness making its way to his brain. He thought of every place he and his mother had broken into over the eight years they were on the run. 

“No, no reservations.” 

Wymack’s mouth was a line. “We’ll check it out together, see if we can find anything and get on his trail. Sound good?” 

“You have to be there?” Neil asked. He didn’t mean to, but it was too late. Fear gripped Neil tightly, his habits of his past life refusing to give way under the pressures of his new one. 

He could shout the truth from the rooftops here. He’d be in no more danger of dying than he was if he was just a normal person born into the Commonwealth. He could tell everyone he met; his real name, his father’s past, anything he wanted to spill he could. He could broadcast it from the radio station, and it wouldn’t matter. 

But he knew he never would. Never could he bring himself to tell the truth, about any part of him. These half-confessions were ripping him apart and they were only about his new life. 

He should stop, chalk it up to luck that he was alive, and avoid his mother’s murderers if he could. He should leave. There wasn’t any reason to stay in the Commonwealth anyway. Boston had just been another city when he came here. He’d been prepared to leave once, what was stopping him now? There were no cars and no reliable means of transportation, but he could walk. Maybe go back to Canada. Or try his chances down the coast. South Carolina maybe. Or further, Mexico. He could keep walking forever and no one would ask questions in this world. He’d be another wanderer. He’d been prepared for this existence his whole life. 

“I want you to consider for a moment how it would look, a newcomer poking around the house of someone who had been a resident here. Diamond City is small, and people will notice.” 

“And you? Isn’t everyone afraid of synths? How come you can live here?” 

“Of course. But they’re not afraid of me,” Wymack’s smile was sure. At Neil’s puzzled look he said, “That’s a story for a different time. Ask Allison if it’s really killing you inside.” 

Neil thought of the scene he’d made in the market and decided it was probably for the best if he had Wymack with him. “Fine,” he said. “But I won’t give you any more details. And anything we find, I follow the leads alone.” 

“Whatever you say, kid.” 

Wymack extinguished the butt of his cigarette in his ash tray on his desk and got up to open the door. Neil stubbed his own cigarette out and tucked the other half into his pocket. If they were a rare commodity, he should hold onto it for later. 

Allison was leaning against the wall a few feet away, an arm draped around Nicky’s shoulder. The gesture was hardly affectionate. 

“Come on, Nicky. Just tell me how she’s doing,” she cooed. 

“Your het shit doesn’t work on me, Reynolds,” Nicky said with narrowed eyes. 

“I’m not hitting on you,” Allison said. “Though you should be so flattered. I just know you have the best gossip in the Commonwealth.” 

Aaron made a snorting sound. “You’re not charming when you lie, Allison.” 

Nicky faked offense, but the smile didn’t leave his face. “Just go visit Renee yourself, Allison. You know she’d love to see you.” 

Neil trailed up beside Wymack, hoping not to have to interact with them any further. 

“Listen up,” Womack said, with a clap of his hands, disrupting their conversation. “I want the three of you in there until we get back, got it?” 

“How about your scotch, Detective?” Nicky asked with bright eyes.

“Fine, whatever. Just stay there. Neil and I will be back shortly.”

Dogmeat wagged his tail at Neil’s side excitedly as Wymack led them up a set of metal stairs and into the stands. Neil fought the uncomfortable feeling people were watching him after his display in the market. 

Kellogg’s abandoned home was up in the stands, isolated from the other homes in the city. It took two minutes to walk over. Wymack made quick work of the lock, and then they were in. 

It was small, half the size of Allison’s pace. One room, a desk in the middle riddled with spare tools and duct tape. A couch under the stairs that led to the loft up top. 

“This can’t be it,” Wymack muttered. 

Neil agreed but didn’t say anything.

Dogmeat whimpered at the wall to the left of the entrance as he sniffed the floor. Neil knelt besides the dog, feeling with his fingertips along the metal floor and walls. There was the slightest draft. 

“Good boy,” Neil said with a scratch to Dogmeat’s ears. Neil went about searching for some way to enter the secret room as Wymack searched the desk. 

The desk was too easy, so Neil abandoned the thought and tried to focus the way his mother would tell him to. He pressed along the floorboards, seeing if something might give before heading for the stairs. Under the first step, his fingers hooked on a small switch, no larger than a button. He pressed it immediately, waiting for the mechanisms on the door to give way

Wymack almost looked impressed as the wall slid back, but his expression went stony as he looked in. 

To say the room was ominous seemed an understatement. How such a small space--no larger than four feet across in any direction--could suck the air from your lungs in one second, it seemed Wymack didn’t know. Neil was hardly unsettled by the setup. He knew all about small deadly things. The room was bewildering for Neil only because it was so tall, the ceilings hanging several feet above him. It felt vaguely like a coffin. 

There were three large metal shelving units off to one side, and a large metal cabinet and counter taking up the back wall. In the dead center of the room sat a red armchair. It looked like a chair to torture victims in, the way it sat all alone facing the wall in the center of the room. On a small table next to the chair sat a pair of handcuffs and a crisp package of cigars. The room had the aesthetic of Neil’s childhood. 

There were ammo boxes, a duffel bag filled with guns, canned food items, alcohol, cigarettes, and water stocked along the shelves. The bottom of the farthest shelf was filled with the popular pre-war soft drink, Nuka Cola. A dozen, maybe more of the glass bottles crowded the shelf. Neil started stuffing items into his pack immediately.If nothing else, this room presented a great way to restock all of the items that Andrew and Kevin had looted from him. 

Neil moved his attention to the metal cabinets attached to the back wall, pulling them open to see what else he could gather.  The highest shelf had him up on the tips of his toes and still unable to get a good look in. He slid his hand blindly across the bottom and froze when he felt the cold metal of knives. 

He twitched his hand back and a knife went skidding out, falling at his feet and sliding under the counter. 

“You okay, kid?” 

Neil nodded numbly but didn't speak. Slowly, he knelt down and attempted to retrieve the knife from where it had fallen. He didn’t want to hold it, but it might reveal something useful. So, he pushed his fear out of his mind as much as he could manage. He grazed the knife with his fingertips, trying to draw it closer, but something else caught his eye. Under the faint reflective glow of the knife, Neil spotted a small cassette.

He brought the objects out, one in each hand, feeling the heaviness in his arms as he held them.

“Holotape,” Wymack commented as he surveyed the objects in Neil’s hands. “Should be able to play that in your Pip-Boy.” 

Neil set the knife gingerly on the counter and slid the holotape into the top of his Pip-Boy. He’d stolen the Pip-Boy off the skeleton of a worker in Vault 111. It had been useful in operating the mechanisms to unlock the doors. It was the most advanced pieces of technology he’d ever carried with him, with a radio, GPS, and a geiger counter for measuring radiation levels, as some of its most basic features. 

He pressed the button to play the tape hesitantly. 

At the first word spoken, Neil’s blood turned to slush and he was ejecting the tape. 

It echoed in his ears, over and over. “Butcher.” 

“Neil,” Wymack asked, eyeing him like he was seconds from snapping.

Neil nodded numbly but didn’t bring his eyes up. “I’m fine,” he muttered, staring at the orange and white cassette like it could kill him right where he stood.

“You sure?” 

Neil slid his gaze to Wymack, and nodded again, slightly more forcefully this time.

Wymack was silent for so long, Neil had to bark, “I’m fine,” at him once more just so he would react. 

“I’m going to step outside until you’re done, alright? You need anything, come get me.” 

Neil’s fingers were shaking, but he clenched them tight, feeling the holotape creak under the pressure. Neil nodded once more. Dogmeat followed Wymack out the door, clearly not wanting to be there any longer. 

As Wymack pulled the door shut, Neil slid to his knees. He pressed his body back up against the cool metal wall and took a deep breath before sliding the tape back into place.

“Butcher.” It wasn’t his father’s voice, but that only made Neil feel marginally better. The man’s voice from the vault echoed in the quiet of the room. “Operation successful. Mary Hatford terminated. DNA sample delivered to X6-88. Nathaniel Wesninski remains frozen in cryo chamber 004 in Vault 111. Henceforth, he will be referred to as subject 10. Details regarding observation and extraction of subject 10 to follow in succeeding holotape. Receipt of this holotape should be confirmed in database. Following upload of this message, destroy immediately.”  The voice cut off and the holotape self-ejected as it reached the end of its recorded message.

Butcher, he’d said. The name was a quickened heartbeat, loud and heavy in Neil’s ears. It could have been a coincidence. It was a menacing name to adopt, and that alone could get you far in the Wasteland. But the information was too specific for it to be anyone other than his father. Of this, Neil was certain.

His father had to be alive. Neil didn’t think it was possible, but that had been stupid. He was alive after all, 200 years later. Why wouldn’t his father be? Neil wondered how and why he had not been killed in the vault. What could be worth more to his father that he would keep his traitorous son alive rather than enact his revenge?

Neil closed his eyes, trying to get air into his lungs. He was squeezing his palms so tightly, little half moons were burning red into his palms. He squeezed harder in an attempt to subside his shaking. 

The nausea rose in his stomach, his mouth swelling with hot saliva as he felt a dizzying rush pulse through his head. He reached blindly for the metal bucket in the corner of the room, his bile dribbling down his chin as the waves of vomit rip through him. 

He couldn’t think. Couldn’t think of the grief he felt for his mother, the pain of not having her next to him to make sense of this. He wanted her hand, raked through his hair, tugging at the ends to pull him into sharp focus. He couldn’t think of the paralyzing fear of his father here, in the Commonwealth, receiving updates on his unmoved body in the vault. Couldn’t think of what to do next. All he could feel was self-condemnation. Guilt colored all of his thoughts, all the visions of his mother, and every move they’d made since coming to Boston. Shame for suggesting they enter the vault. Regret for insisting they stay. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he whispered--cried--into the bucket. “God, I’m so sorry, mom.” 

Why did it have to be so hard without her? He was too young, too stupid to know what to do now. He couldn’t imagine what she would do, and he needed guidance now more than he ever had in his life. 

He pushed the bucket away, trying to steady himself on his hands and knees. Trying to clear his head, swallow away the taste of vomit. He opened his eyes, stared down hard at his fingers sprawled out in front of him and counted to ten. He counted again, and then twice more, until he was ready to move. 

Neil made moves to start searching for another holotape. If information about him was floating around on other tapes, he needed to know what they said. If nothing else, he needed to know exactly what his father knew about him. He moved clumsy fingers and shaking hands through the cabinets, puling a stool over to stand on top of to check the highest shelves. He found more knives, but no additional holotypes or notes. 

It hurt to play again, but Neil needed to confirm that the man in the vault and Kellogg were one in the same. He paused the tape towards the end, to a point that gave no information about his identity away, and did a quick survey of the room one last time before heading out to Wymack. Dogmeat got up from where he was sitting next to Wymack and began licking Neil’s hands vigorously. 

“You alright?” Wymack asked. 

Neil ignored him, talking over him almost immediately. “Would you recognize Kellogg’s voice if you heard it?” 

“I’ve only spoken to him once or twice. Very distrustful of the law. Rightfully so, I suppose. But his voice is clear, distinctive. I would know it.”

Neil played the end of the holotype for Womack.

“That him?” he demanded.

“It is.” Wymack said, and didn’t press further. “If you’d like to destroy that, we should do it back at my place. Wouldn’t want to leave behind anything someone else could find.” 

Neil didn’t have a plan yet. Didn’t know what he was going to do. But as they walked back to Wymack’s place he felt that part of him, that tiny part that wanted more than running, hum quietly in the air of Diamond City. He didn’t know what his father’s gang looked like anymore. If he still had any control of Baltimore. If that territory had spread here. If there was even anything _to_ control in the Commonwealth, with the Brotherhood of Steel, and the Institute, and the Minutemen and any one else who decided to play, drawing lines across the map. But Neil knew that he couldn’t run away like he used to--not in the same way. If he wanted to get out of here he’d have to do it quickly and, without transportation, he had no way of doing that. He had no idea who was watching him and reporting back, or if they would kill him on site if he tried to leave. 

For now, he was wanted alive. It didn’t stop him from feeling the need to glance over his shoulder every five seconds, but it was better than actively having his father’s men after him with an intent to kill. He tried not to dwell on the fact that the faces and names had changed. He had no way of knowing who had followed his father, who was still alive, and who he had brought on in the last two centuries. Instead, he put all of his mental energy into trying to figure out how to catch up on the information game. He needed to know what he was being kept alive for.

If Neil was going to gamble with his own life, he needed to know what game he was playing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those reader who are not familiar with the game: companions are a huge component of the gameplay. They are people - or in the case of Dogmeat animals - that you find throughout your journey that can travel with you and help you with specific tasks you might not be able to do on your own. It's one of my favorite aspects of the game, and also the reason I was so excited to bring Neil as the Sole Survivor. There are things he actually cannot do without the help of his companions, and Neil isn't a character who is used to being comfortable around anyone else. 
> 
> The companions also have really amazing personalities, some of which are startlingly like the Foxes, which is the main reason the foxes are spread all over the map instead of being in one place. 
> 
> For those who are familiar with the game below is the list of characters in FO4 that have been replaced with Fox characters so far, in case its not specifically obvious:  
> Preston Garvey - Dan Wildes  
> Piper Wright - Allison Reynolds  
> Paladin Danse - Jean Moreau  
> Nick Valentine - David Wymack


	5. Greet the Dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Andrew and Renee spar, and Andrew meets Neil Josten

“You already know that a courser chip allows a synth to relay into the Institute,” Matt said, peering over Renee’s shoulder as she examined it. “What are you hoping she finds?” 

Andrew ignored him. Renee had already scolded him once for threatening Matt and that was only five minutes ago. There was nothing entertaining to be had in telling him to buzz off. “Can you pull more specific data from it?” 

Renee looked up, a small smile on her face. “I can’t get you too many specifics, but I should be able to find out which Synth it belonged to. May I keep it after I’m done?” 

“I haven’t decided yet.” 

“Come on, man. We could really use this. Don’t you want to help us break into the Institute?” 

Andrew stared at him blankly, refusing to waste words or breathe in a response. 

Matt waited only a moment to see if he would get any reply before turning his attention away. They were seated in the Third Rail at Andrew’s usual table. Railroad agents didn’t usually go places in pairs, but Matt and Renee were a special exception. Too deep in the mess and too talented to lose, they tried to travel together when it was to their mutual benefit. Renee was here for Andrew specifically, but Matt needed to check in with Kevin. 

Kevin sat next to them, the lack of alcohol at the table making his hands twitchy. It wouldn’t do him any good to be drunk right now, and he knew that, but Andrew knew it didn’t make it any easier to think about the Institute. He would consider pitying him if it wasn’t so pathetic. Matt offered a decent distraction for Kevin, especially once they broke into a conversation on tactics against the Brotherhood. 

“Why do you want this information,” Renee asked, but she didn’t look up at Andrew. She was focused on staring at the chip with squinted eyes. 

“Stole the chip from a vault dweller.” Andrew spread a smile wide across his face. “Kevin wants to take him under his wing. Keep him as a pet.” 

Kevin ignored the jab and continued discussing the pros and cons of airstrikes. 

“Ah,” Renee said, nodding. She smiled slowly. “I’d be happy to take a look at it.” 

Andrew had only started working with the Railroad a year ago, after he struck up a deal with Renee to help them infiltrate the Institute. It was a bargain made with Kevin in mind, but it also granted Andrew a promise to be trained to fight by Renee. The Railroad was a small, flighty organization; rebels and outcasts with an optimistic streak. Andrew didn’t care enough to believe in their cause, but he couldn’t deny that Renee was a valuable asset to have on his side. 

“What is his name, the vault dweller?”

“I don’t know yet. Sent Aaron and Nicky to see what they could find from Allison.” 

At Allison’s name Renee perked up. “Oh? Tell her I said to visit sometime?” 

“I’m not playing messenger, Renee,” Andrew said. 

Renee made what she would of this response and kept her smile. 

“Shall we spar before I go?”

Andrew said nothing, simply rose from his seat. He headed for the VIP room at the back of the bar. The room was small, but Andrew didn’t mind. No one would disturb them in there. They removed their armor wordlessly. These fights were for flesh and bone. Pads and metal were better suited saving them on raids. 

Renee tucked a strand of her short pale hair behind her ear before bringing a foot against Andrew’s jaw. The rush of blood to his face set Andrew instantly at ease. 

She had height on Andrew, a solid eight inches, and her limbs were water as they reached out for him again and again. 

“Not on your chems,” Renee said after she landed a second blow. 

It was true. He was much slower without them and he knew she could notice the difference immediately. 

He landed a kick to her hip, sending her off her stance slightly. Renee was the more talented fighter by far, but that hardly mattered to him. Andrew sometimes needed a solid punch to his face to set his priorities in order. 

He managed a strong fist to her jaw, moving with her as she rocked back and ducked. A knee to her stomach had her doubled over for a moment. But Renee was patient, and a better fighter for it. 

“He’s bothering you, huh?” Renee asked. She didn’t smile as much with Andrew when she was fighting. She didn’t need to. 

Andrew felt a rush in his veins, irritation thick and sticky in his blood. He didn’t answer Renee, just swung with less precision and more anger. She ducked and jumped efficiently, moving with a composure that he knew he could never hope to have. The knife itched at his forearm. If he pulled to early, Renee would be relentless in ending the session early. If he waited, what was the point of their agreement anyway? 

“Idiot,” Andrew breathed. “Came at Kevin with a pipe.” 

“Is he reckless?” Renee asked between movements. “Or something different?” 

“Yes.” 

She hooked a foot behind his knee, rocking Andrew’s balance before throwing her full body weight onto him, riding with him as he was knocked onto his back. She pinned his right arm with her knee and kept the left in place with a tight grip around his wrist. Her other forearm was firm against his chest, a knife in her fist over his heart. Her limbs were something he’d still yet to adjust to. The laugh bubbling up from his chest was filled with hostility. She was still a threat, and he didn’t appreciate the reminder. 

“Worried about Kevin?” Renee asked. 

Andrew let out a short breath. It was the rules of the game they played. She pinned, he answered. He stopped caring for her truths after a while. Since she’d give them up without the arrangement, the lack of frequency with which he pinned her became less of a concern. 

“My brain is screaming warning,” Andrew said. 

Renee nodded but didn’t let up from her grip. “Warning for what?” 

“Ah, you only get one question.” Andrew’s smile was on his face as he released a short breath. “Rules of the game, Ms. Walker.” 

“I’ll just have to pin you again then.” 

“Can I punch you in the face now?”

Renee laughed, a whimsical sound. “Only if you can land a hit.” 

Andrew never felt fully satisfied with their sparring sessions. They started off differently, each trying to bring an element of surprise into the session, but they always ended the same--Andrew swinging violently and without abandon. It was always Renee that reigned him in, with a simple “enough” that ended the session and brought Andrew away from the cliff. 

It came today with a face pressed to the floor, hands wrenched behind his back, wrist pulled to a near sprain to dislodge a knife, and a knee holding him at the small of his back. He went still under her and conceded. 

“Give me a bit to get the chip looked at, ok?” Renee asked as she pulled him up. “I’ll head back with what I find when its done.” 

Andrew nodded. 

“Andrew?” she asked as she was leaving the room. She didn’t turn to face him, but she did go still. “Would you consider listening to Kevin?” 

Andrew didn’t answer her, but he knew he didn’t have to. He and Renee were cut from the same cloth--and there was an understanding that went with that. He walked by her as indication he was done talking, but the answer hung thick in the air around them: It would kill him if he did. 

They walked out into the main room of the Third Rail, where David Wymack was sitting at the table, waiting with Kevin and Matt. 

“Detective,” Andrew declared, all false cheer and big bravado. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

Wymack wasted no times with pleasantries. “Heard you raided a courser chip off some poor kid.” 

“Oh, interesting,” Andrew declared, rocking back and forth on his heels. His eyes darted around the table, taking in everyone’s expressions. “Nicky open his mouth and tell you that?” 

“The kid did. Neil Josten is his name, made me bring him here.” 

“And you listened?” Andrew asked with raised eyebrows. 

“I don’t expect sympathy from you, Minyard,” he said. “But this kid is deep in something I doubt he understands.” He settled his attention on Kevin. It was a cheap show of trying to sway him, and Andrew didn’t care for it. “He’s looking for Kellogg.”

Kevin’s neck nearly snapped as brought it up to stare at Wymack. “Why?” he spluttered.

“He won’t say, but he is clear he doesn’t want my help. Wants to do it alone.”

“So let him,” Andrew said. “Either Kellogg’ll kill him or the wasteland will. He’ll be dead soon enough.”

“Andrew,” Renee said lightly. He met her look dead on. She’d already taken more than her fair share of him this morning, and she knew there wasn’t anything else for her to ask of him. She didn’t say anything else.

“Nicky and Aaron told me about his altercation with you,” Wymack said. His attention was focused all on Kevin now, ignoring Andrew completely. “They say you want him, in a bad way.” 

“We need him,” Kevin said simply. It wasn’t desperation, it was assurance. He knew what he wanted and that was it. This was fact, not feeling. In Kevin’s obsession with the Brotherhood, Neil was a necessary component of a winning equation. 

“Then convince him,” Wymack said. “He’s stubborn, but he’s not alright on his own. Anyone can see it.” 

“Where is he, detective?” Andrew asked. “Let’s get this meet and greet over with, yeah?” 

Wymack turned a steely gaze on Andrew, but got up from his chair. He didn’t speak again as he led them out of the bar and towards the main gate. 

Small, but fierce, Goodneighbor was a settlement constructed around the Old Massachusetts State House, where once upon a time the Boston Massacre had occurred. Maybe it was its history that propelled Goodneighbor’s “by the people, for the people” mission. Or maybe it was convenient branding. Either way, Goodneighbor’s mayor, John Hancock, didn’t tolerate any sentiment otherwise. Goodneighbor was for freaks and outcasts, and no one was turned away. You could do whatever you wanted in Goodneighbor, and there was an expectation that you took the law into your own hands for survival, but if you tried to trample on someone else’s way of existing you could expect to die. Disrespect wasn’t tolerated in the slightest, but anarchy was the name of the game. It was this mentality that had drawn Andrew’s lot to the settlement in the first place. 

As Andrew rounded the corner, he spotted Nicky and Aaron standing tensed by the front gate. Their packs were filled to the brim with the supplies Kevin had requested. Behind them, Andrew caught a flash of blue eyes and the aggressive smirk of a mouth running on fumes. 

“Unless it’s get assholes out of my face insurance, I’m pretty sure I don’t want any,” Neil spat across the threshold. At his side was a dog, teeth barred and fur bristled at its masters side. It let out a small snarl in support of Neil’s words. 

John Hancock stood with arms crossed, hip leaning against a trash can off to the side, as a resident of Goodneighbor ran his mouth at the vault dweller. Hancock was small, maybe two inches taller than Andrew, and wore the tattered garments of a soldier from the American revolution. As a sash, Hancock donned a worn American flag. As an added accessory, he wore heavy sarcasm and a violence Andrew found reflected back in himself. 

“Lay off that extortion crap, Finn,” Hancock said with a bored voice before Neil could spit something back. It was a warning coated in apathy. Andrew moved a step closer to Hancock. Feeling the tension roll off of him ignited the rage hiding in his own bones. 

“What do you care?” Finn demanded, turning towards Hancock. “He ain’t one of us. No matter who he’s hiding behind.” 

“No love for your mayor? I said let him go.” 

“You keep playing soft Hancock, and one day we’ll have a new mayor.” It was a clear threat, even if a tame one. Andrew’s mouth cracked wide open with anticipation, his hands loose and giddy at his side. 

Hancock let out the smallest chuckle and took a few steps closer. “Come on, Finn. This is me we’re talking about here. Let me tell you something.” He held an arm out to pull him close. Finn, idiot he was, took a step into Hancock, warming to the embrace, before a blade slid right into his gut. The knife came out and went right back in twice more. 

Hancock leaned down where Finn had fallen to the ground to bleed out. “Now why’d you have to go and say that, huh?” He looked up at Andrew. “Hate when they make me kill them.” 

“From where I was standing he ran right into the blade. Clumsy, if you ask me,” Andrew said, which earned a grin from the mayor. 

Andrew watched Neil, who didn’t flinch at the sudden violence. He didn’t miss the way Neil watched the blade Hancock held with a sharp eye. 

Hancock pointed a finger at him. “You ok, brother?” 

“I’m fine,” Neil said, an air of defiance in his words. 

“Cool. Welcome to our little community then. Cobbled this settlement out of the misfits and freaks no one else wanted, so everyone’s welcome. Even you. What’s your name, kid?” 

“Neil Josten.” 

“Well, Neil Josten, good to have you in Goodneighbor. Do you well to respect who’s in charge.” 

“Maybe he keeps his mouth shut, he won’t have to worry about assholes trying to kill him,” Aaron said.

They stood like that for a moment, Aaron and Nicky in front of Neil, Hancock and Finn’s body in the center with Andrew, and Matt, Renee, Kevin, and Wymack behind them. 

Matt was the first to cross the divide, with an outstretched hand and an easy smile. “Good to meet you, Neil. Name’s Matt.” 

Neil looked about ready to vomit under the pressure of all the attention he was getting. Andrew’s interest swelled. Someone who hates attention sure manages to make quite an entrance wherever he goes. Andrew didn’t believe in luck, but he couldn’t deny that trouble seemed to follow this kid. Given he was on rather intimate terms with trouble, he recognized the look of unease in Neil’s eyes, and wondered if it was genuine. 

Neil’s dog sat at his side, alert but unthreatening. He sniffed Matt’s hand before Neil bothered to move. Andrew hadn’t anticipated Neil as a type to have a companion, much less a dog that he was responsible for caring for. 

Neil shook Matt’s hand, mumbling a few words of acknowledgment, before running his hand down the length of his thigh. Andrew watched as Neil’s eyes darted from one person to the next, fists lose at his sides and feet tensed for whatever surprise might come next. It was a look Andrew had seen many times over in the Commonwealth, but there was something different about it somehow. Something that settled deeper in those loose knees and tensed muscles.

Renee smiled and walked forward, extending a friendly hand as she introduced herself. Neil refused her handshake, favoring a cautious once over instead. The dog seemed equally cautious of Renee, standing to a more alert position as he sniffed the air around her. 

Renee wasn’t offended, but she slid a meaningful look to Andrew. 

“Neil,” Andrew said, trying the sound of it out in his mouth as he walked closer. He watched Neil carefully as he repeated it again, slower this time. There was something false in the weight of it. Andrew watched the restraint settle into Neil’s features as he tested his name. 

It wasn't that names meant anything in the Commonwealth. People named themselves, changed their names, were named for settlements or times of day that they had been found. It didn’t matter. But it was how Neil clung to the sound of his name as he introduced himself, like it was slipping just out of reach from his fingertips and he was desperately trying to hold on. Another piece that didn’t end up. 

Wymack broke the trance, directing his attention solely at Andrew. 

“Told the kid I’d help him out, so don’t go killing him just yet.” 

Andrew held up his hands in a gesture of innocence but didn’t say anything. 

As he moved his eyes to consider Neil once more, Andrew was surprised to find Neil return his stare. His expression was clear, unguarded in a way that Andrew hadn’t expected, but there was also unease. Like he was waiting to be found out. 

“Andrew.” It was Hancock. “Take the reunion somewhere else, yeah? Bad enough I have to deal with this mess.” His foot nudged the dead body in front of him.

“Aaron, Nicky,” Andrew said, turning around to head back into the Third Rail. 

“That means you, too,” Nicky explained to Neil as Matt and Renee said their goodbyes and headed out the gate. 

“Andrew,” Wymack said in a low voice. 

“Relax, detective. Just going to have a little chat with our new friend,” Andrew threw over his shoulder. “Maybe Hancock could use your help while you wait.” 

He didn’t turn around to see if anyone was listening to him, Andrew heard it in the movement around him. The sound of footsteps on cobblestone, the shove of a hand on the back of armor, the resistance in Neil’s footsteps and the certainty in Kevin’s. 

Andrew went straight for the VIP room as they entered the Third Rail, and turned to face Neil as soon as they were in the middle of it. He was just a step too close to him. Andrew waited for Neil’s discomfort to show, but the proximity didn’t have an effect on Neil’s cool gaze or the relaxed stance of his sidekick. He didn’t take a step back, and neither did Andrew. 

“So, Neil Josten, huh?” 

“Andrew Minyard,” he returned with a clipped voice. 

“Very good.” Andrew felt the press of the dogs nose onto his left leg as he sniffed, but didn’t risk a glance down. They were playing a game right now, and it was one Andrew couldn’t lose. Neil’s gaze was unwavering, the challenge clear under the weight of it. 

“What were you doing in Diamond City?” Andrew asked. He felt the falseness of the manic smile on his face, and wondered if Neil could spot it. “And with our favorite detective of all things.” 

Andrew watched as Neil flicked a curious look at Nicky and Aaron, who had fallen into seats to their right. Kevin stood beside them, back leaned against the wall, arms folded across his chest.

“Looking for you and Kevin.” He was still looking at Nicky and Aaron, curious about something Andrew couldn’t immediately identify. 

“And why would you do a stupid thing like that?”

Neil looked back at Andrew, a flash of irritation shining behind his eyes. “To get my things back.” 

The smirk that played at his lips was at once fierce and self-deprecating. It twisted his face in a an almost manic way. Andrew couldn’t help but reflect it back at him. 

“How’s that working out for you?” 

“This is a waste of time,” Kevin said abruptly, pushing off the wall. He walked towards them, and turned his attention hard on Neil. Andrew didn’t move to allow him any closer, but it hardly mattered. Kevin towered over him and had an unobstructed view of Neil’s face regardless. “Look, Wymack wants to help you find Kellogg. Take him up on his offer for help. We work with him. We have a ton of resources. If you consider joining us to take down the Brotherhood and the Institute, we could help you locate Kellogg. ” 

“Not interested,” Neil said simply. 

Kevin looked dumbfounded. “What do you mean, not interested?” 

Andrew felt his smile deepen as Neil said defiantly, “I’m not interested.” 

“How curious, Neil Josten,” Andrew said quietly, leaning his face in closer to look at him with squinted eyes. He tried to spot the cracks in his facade, but couldn’t quite locate them. 

Kevin turned cold quickly. “You have nothing. How do you plan to find him on your own?” 

“That’s my problem,” Neil said, equally as cool. 

“What are you even doing here, if you don’t want anyone involved?” Aaron asked. 

It was a fair question. Andrew watched Neil struggle with how to address it. 

His voice was rich with impatience as he finally said, “I already told you, I want my things back. Wymack would only agree to take me to you, wouldn’t tell you where you were. Said I wouldn’t make it through the door otherwise. I wasn’t in a position to argue.” 

“We don’t have your things anymore,” Andrew said with a laugh. “Sent your courser chip off with Renee to have it analyzed.”

“What?” Neil spluttered. “Why would you do that?” 

“Because I wanted to,” Andrew said, enunciating each word carefully. 

Neil struggled with how to respond to that news, but the terror was clear on his face no matter how carefully he tried to guard it. 

“He doesn’t want to be here,” Aaron said. “Let him go off and get himself killed.” 

“He’s here now, that’s what matters,” Kevin said, back to business. “What’ll it take?” 

“What’ll it take?” Neil asked. The confusion on his face seemed genuine, but Andrew refused to believe he was so dumb to not understand bartering. 

“What do you want? Kellogg on a platter? A reward for your service? A reputation that no one fucks with? We can give all of that to you.”

Andrew watched Neil’s face carefully. He saw the tension in his features resolve, and then reinsert itself as Neil thought through Kevin’s offer with uncertainty. 

“I’ve got an idea,” Andrew said suddenly. “You wait here for Renee to come back with the results from your chip. Another journey back to Diamond City will just keep you exposed, and there are a lot more leaks in that settlement then there are here. Ignore Kevin’s begging until we can make sense of you.” 

“And I should what, take your word for it?” Neil scoffed. Andrew found it interesting, and not in a good way, that Neil had ignored the last part of his idea. 

“Yes,” Andrew said seriously. “You should.” 

“He’s right,” Kevin said. “No one here has any loyalties to either the Institute or the Brotherhood. It’s why we stay here in the first place.”

“Maybe you’ll forgive me for not trusting anyone here,” Neil said, looking around to each of them. 

“Maybe I won’t,” Andrew said, taking a step an inch closer. 

Kevin didn’t move, but the tension in his frame was clear. His message to Andrew radiated across their space: He is my obsession, don’t break him. 

“I don’t have anything to offer you,” Neil said. “I’m not involved in any of this Brotherhood Institute business and I have no need to be. I just want my things back and to be on my way. I have no money and less resources. I’m not a valuable ally.” 

Andrew dismissed these words immediately. If he wasn’t involved, he’d have no reason to look for Kellogg. And for someone who didn’t have any interest in Kevin, he kept showing up in front of him regardless. It was clear in what they had gathered from Neil--the expensive vault suit in pristine condition, the courser chip, the purified water and unirradiated food--that he had money from somewhere, even if he was dressed like a scummy wastelander. The last bit about being a valuable ally seemed true enough though. Andrew deeply doubted Neil had ever been an ally to anyone in his life. 

“You’re with the Minutemen, aren’t you?” Nicky asked.

“Yeah,” Neil said, looking confused. Andrew wanted to slap the confusion clean off his face. “But you’re deluded if you think they have resources. There’s barely five of them.”

 _Them_ , Andrew thought. _Not us_.

“Stop wasting our time. Join us,” Kevin said.

“Get someone else,” Neil said. “There are dozens of people who would jump at the chance to get back at the Institute. Head to Diamond City yourself and you’ll see."

Kevin shook his head once. “Don’t want them. We’ve seen you fight.” 

“You went right for Kevin in full Power Armor,” Nicky said. 

“Not worth it to recruit anyone who isn’t willing to lay their life down,” Kevin confirmed. 

“Who said that I was willing to do that?” 

“Your eyes,” Kevin said. His voice was hard, unwavering, and his eyes were daggers. 

Andrew watched Neil flinch violently. A free hand went up to touch the side of his left eye absentmindedly. 

For now, Andrew was content to watch this play out before him. He took a few steps out of the way, signaling to Kevin to move forward. Kevin didn’t hesitate. He towered over Neil in two long strides. 

Neil looked up at Kevin, eyes unwavering in their challenge. He was neither unimpressed nor intimidated. He looked at Kevin like he stared up at a God he was justified in murdering. All violence and awe. Andrew added that look to the list of reasons to be suspicious of Neil Josten. 

“There isn’t any point to living in the Commonwealth,” Kevin said. His words were merciless, but Andrew preferred this version of Kevin--obsessed as he was--any day. “You’ve survived so far. Good for you. But for what? Be a part of something. Die for a cause instead of alone in a ditch.” 

“Alone in a riverbed,” Neil said with a twinge of his eyebrow. 

Kevin’s gaze was sharp and ruthless but he didn’t say anything else. 

For a moment, no one said anything, and Andrew thought Neil might tell them to fuck off again. In the end his stupidity got the best of him. 

Andrew dropped his eyes down to where the dog was pressing its wet nose into Neil’s palm. He nudged Neil’s hand twice before he finally said, “Alright. Fine.” 

Andrew lowered himself so he was on his knees, eye level with the dog. 

“His name is Dogmeat,” Neil said. Andrew felt the weight of his gaze, resolute from above.

“Dogmeat,” Andrew said. 

The dog looked Andrew right in the eyes. There was something soft and fierce in his face. It had Andrew reaching for the edge of the armbands he wore under his armor. 

Andrew went to the list of reasons he shouldn’t trust Neil Josten in his mind, ticking each off as a reminder to be on guard, and added this creature onto it. 

As he stood up, Andrew said, “I hate dogs.” 


	6. Cleansing the Commonwealth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Neil heads out with Kevin's group to kick some ghoul butt, meets Abbie, and learns what Andrew knows about him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anything I definitely need to warn about the GORE in this chapter. It isn't anything too bad, but if blood or zombie-like creatures make you squirm then definitely be warned. If you want to skip that stuff entirely, it's wedged between the paragraph beginning with "A penchant for flesh, feral ghouls had" and the paragraph that starts "There was a silence that settled in the air". 
> 
> Soo sorry about the delay in getting this one up. Fair warning: I had serious issues writing this chapter. Everything felt really disjointed and OOC and I was very unmotivated moving through it. It also just ended up being way longer than I thought it was going to be and I was too done with it to give it a proper edit. At the very least, I hope this chapter provides a better understanding for the world. Its filled with tiny bits of information that will hopefully, hopefully, clear some things up. 
> 
> ALSO: You will notice that Abby is spelt Abbie in this here fanfic. The change is for a very specific reason. Abby is effectively replacing Curie, a character within the Fallout series. As a way to keep the integrity of Curie's character, I changed Abby's spelling. The change does have a specific meaning, which is apparent in this chapter once she is introduced. 
> 
> Thank you x1000 to everyone who has gifted this story with kudos and comments. I appreciate the feedback. Hopefully there will be some good feedback on this chapter too, because it feels like shit to me. Also please please feel free to ask any clarifying question you have as you are reading. A lot of really great edits have come from comments just asking questions about things I take for granted as I write. 
> 
> Anyway, happy reading!

Kevin shoved a weapons duffel firmly against Neil's chest. It shook his chest with a clatter and reignited pain in his side. It was a move that reminded him —only vaguely— of his mother. All tough motions and hard lines, unyielding and unconcerned. 

"It'll do you some good to learn how to fight." 

"I can protect myself," Neil said. He looked up at the tall man, and found neither mercy nor amusement in his eyes. 

"Don't waste my time with stupidity. You're an inexperienced fighter and I won't have that on my team." 

"I didn't ask to be on your team." 

"But you agreed to be. Now pick one of those and let's go. There are feral ghouls to clean out along the back alley and we're on task to do it." 

Neil looked to Andrew who seemed to be picking under his nail with the sharpened blade of a knife. He held it loosely, unafraid but not well versed. Neil thought of the fifty ways he knew to brandish a blade against skin and couldn't help but smirk. _Amateur_.

Neil poked through the bag of weapons, deflating at what he found. 

"There aren't any guns," Neil said as he rummaged through lead pipes, and crowbars, and bats. 

Kevin scoffed at him. "You think you're good enough for that? You didn't even think to pull your gun on Andrew until after you were too broken to breathe." 

Neil bit his reply and grabbed a barbed baseball bat. Kevin took back the bag and started away. 

Neil stood up from the bench he was sitting on. The test swing he threw got Dogmeat up from where he had been laying at Neil’s feet. He barked appreciatively as Neil tried another swing, testing the range of his movements with the state of his ribs. 

“Let’s go, boy,” Neil said, satisfied he could do sufficient damage despite his injury. He earned another bark from Dogmeat as he trotted off towards Kevin. 

Kevin left the duffel bag at the lookout post by the gate and didn’t bother a glance back to see if Neil was following. He followed behind Andrew and waited for Nicky and Aaron to meet them outside. 

Neil surveyed his surroundings. The walls of the settlement may very well be secured, with tall smooth walls of thick metal, but it was best to clear any hostiles within the perimeter. This was a basic of any settlement, and an understanding Neil had from his former life. Details, radius, these are things that mattered as far as protection was concerned. 

The sun was high in the sky and thick waves of heat seemed to tangle with the radiation to bake the men under their armor. As soon as Aaron and Nicky came through the gate, they were off. Nicky took up Neil’s side almost immediately. 

“So, now you’re a part of us, huh?” 

Neil looked at him sideways. “Yeah?” 

It wasn’t an invitation to keep speaking, but Nicky either didn’t mind or didn’t notice. He continued chattering away at Neil’s side. He did have the good grace at least to switch to a safer topic. 

"You two are close," Nicky said, gesturing to Dogmeat who was trotting alongside them. "How long have you had him?" 

"Since day one," Neil said. He wondered how much longer these half answers would last. It didn't seem that Andrew was paying attention, just staring up intently at the sun.

“Dogs are hard to come by in the Commonwealth. Though, they aren’t affected by radiation. Pretty cool, huh? So this little guy can tear into all the radioactive food he wants and not worry about a thing.” 

Dan had told him the same thing. Dogmeat had been with the Minutemen for as long as she had remembered and she swore he never took to anyone the way he took to Neil. She’d sent Dogmeat out for help when they were trapped in Concord and that was when he had found Neil. He’d barely left his side since then, save for Neil’s trip to Lexington. 

“We come out here twice a week,” Nicky said. “Everyone who lives in Goodneighbor has a rotation for the day. Sometimes it’s ferals. Sometimes it’s supply runs. Depends on what needs to be done and it’s all decided by Hancock. Feral ghouls aren’t the worst draw, though they sure are freaky when they come running at you.”

“They’re also deadly,” Aaron said. 

“That, too. But what isn’t around here?” Nicky asked with a big grin. “Bet you’re wondering why so many people from Goodneighbor are just regular ghouls though. Like the mayor, Hancock.” 

It wasn’t really a question, but Neil was curious. “Yeah,” Neil said. 

“Well, you know ghouls were human once. It was the radiation from the fallout of the bombs that turned them into ghouls, disfigured their skin and basically lets them live forever.” 

“So, the ghouls are over 200 years old?” Neil asked. 

“Yeah. Crazy that people are alive from before the war, right?” 

Neil nodded numbly. 

“So anyway, there isn’t anything really dangerous about regular ghouls. They aren’t any more dangerous than a human is. But the ferals? Whole different story. They were so irradiated that their minds just turned to mush. The radiation ate through their brain and they are just wandering, creepy cannibals.” 

“Lovely,” Neil muttered. 

“Exactly. Come across them often?” 

“They’re everywhere around here,” Neil said evasively. 

“They are the worst. I’d rather a human opponent any day.” 

“That’s because you’re an idiot,” Aaron said. 

“Anyway,” Nicky said pointedly, drawing out the word. “We usually clear out the whole radius around Goodneighbor. But we’re focusing you on just the main alley where they gather between Broad and Center street.” 

“Don’t want our injured guest to get scared,” Andrew said. 

“I’m fine. I can handle the full sweep.” 

Kevin made a noise that sounded as though he seriously doubted it. 

Neil eyed him up ahead. Kevin seemed tense without the presence of his Power Amor. Neil wondered what occasions warranted wearing it before Kevin’s voice pulled him back to the task at hand. 

“We’re here.” 

The alley was wide, maybe twenty feet across, and the buildings hung low so that light streamed in bright and hot down the length of it. There were heaps of scrap metal and wood, garbage and refuse, up and down the sides until it ended at a one lane road.

As they drew closer to the mouth of the alley, Neil noticed everyone split almost immediately into formation. Kevin took point, insisting Neil was next to him. Aaron and Nicky stood in the middle, and Andrew was at the very back as their last line of defense. 

There were maybe fifteen or so of the feral ghouls, scattered along the far side of the alley. They moved aimlessly, slowly, and some even lay on the ground. Whether they were resting or hoping to trap passerby Neil was unsure. It didn’t end up mattering. Andrew fired off an unexpected shot, erupting into a laugh as they came running. Kevin sent him a violent look. 

A penchant for flesh the ghouls had, with the speed of a sprinting human and all the mindlessness of zombies. They all had shriveled skin, pressed tight across brittle bones, with strings for hair and bloodstained scraps of garments. Each bite or scrape they landed pushed hot radiation into their victims body, and they were more than eager to head towards Neil and the other men. 

Before Kevin even moved, Neil was running up the alley and landing a blow to the first ghoul stupid enough to turn their attention towards him. The thick spikes wrapped around the bat made a crunchy squish as the bat caved into the skull of the creature. Neil pressed a foot to the ghouls chest as it fell, and he felt his ribs protest as dislodged his weapon in time for another ghoul to rush towards him. 

Dogmeat jumped up, wrenching the ghoul’s arm backwards. He wrestled it to the ground before sinking his teeth into the neck, wriggling his jaw around the slippery tendons and pulling until the ghoul fell still. 

Then Dogmeat was off and clamping down on another, holding him tight so Neil could land a blow. Neil brought the butt of his bat down hard into the ghouls face, blood splattering across Dogmeat’s fur and his pants. 

Two more came towards them, Dogmeat jumping up to bring heavy paws on the chest of the one to the right. He let out a long low snarl as he drove the ghoul down to the ground, tearing at its arm as it struggled to get up. 

Neil brought the bat swiftly to the stomach of the ghoul charging him, driving it forward and towards the wall. It snapped for his neck, and Neil ducked in time to be spared a painful bite. Careful not to disrupt his side too much, Neil dislodged the bat and moved it to pin the ghoul’s neck in place. He pressed all of his weight into the bat so it drove deeper into flesh, thick black blood oozing out as legs struggled to break free. With Neil’s weight against the ghoul and thick padded armor on his body, the ghoul’s arms stayed in place, scrambling helplessly until the creature fell still. 

Neil pulled the bat out and let the body fall, assessing it with the tip of his boot to make sure it was really dead before turning towards Dogmeat. 

He let out an excited bark and weaved through Neil’s legs before turning to see how the others were faring. 

Nicky was sloppy as far as footwork was concerned, but he had solid skills and a fairly powerful arm. Neil could tell Nicky was more skilled than he was. Neil was all instinct, Nicky had skill. Really all the men did. 

Aaron would be the toughest by far if it weren’t for Kevin, who moved robotically with a precision Neil envied. Kevin took down half the ghouls all on his own. Aaron managed just fine on his own, a stronger line of defense than Nicky. It was Andrew that had Neil utterly confused. 

Andrew stood back towards the mouth of the alley, letting out a bored sigh as he leaned his weight against the bat he had at his side. He waited until there was a ghoul just a foot away, swatting out a hand towards his face before he moved in one quick motion to send his weapon slicing through the air. 

The contact of the hit sent the ghoul careening into the brick of the alley, where it slumped lazily and fell in a heap. 

Andrew returned to his stance as the rest of the men struggled with the last of the ghouls. 

Neil made it over towards them in six sure strides, Dogmeat far ahead of him as he aided Aaron in the two he was dealing with. 

Neil brought his bat to the knee of the ghoul focusing on Nicky, sending it down with a fierce crack. It took three strikes to the head before the ghoul stopped trying to reach out for Nicky’s ankle. 

There was a silence that settled in the air as the men checked to see if any more ghouls were coming for them. Neil looked around but didn’t loosen his stance, feeling tension tight in his stomach in anticipation for more, but nothing else came. 

Nicky looked Neil right in the eyes. "That's why Kevin wanted you." 

It sounded vaguely like an accusation, and it put Neil even more on edge. He bit back a cutting remark and moved to a more casual stance. 

"You fight fairly well for a vault dweller," Nicky continued. 

Neil had heard the term thrown around with the Minutemen and had never bothered to correct it one way or another, figuring the less he said on the matter the better. At Nicky’s words though, his eyes flicked to Andrew, knowing he was listening for Neil’s response. 

Neil considered the words he needed to say to give Nicky as little information as possible and shut down any further questioning into his background. 

“Guess I wouldn’t have survived the Commonwealth otherwise.” 

Despite Nicky’s dubious praise, Kevin seemed less than impressed with Neil’s performance. It was as though he didn’t even have the energy to fully address how awful he thought Neil was.

“How are you alive?” he demanded as he pulled up to Neil’s side. 

It was a question Neil considered often, but spoken from Kevin’s mouth it just made him furious. He felt anger, white hot and unrelenting, course through him, overriding the adrenaline he was coming down from. 

“Seriously, how the hell have you made it this far?” His hand grabbed ahold of Neil’s bat and he tugged it towards him. Neil held tight, his body flying closer to Kevin. 

“I told you I wasn’t worth your time,” Neil said. 

“And yet you came out with us anyway,” Kevin spat back. 

He pulled at Neil’s bat again and used Neil’s grip to swing him out of sight. 

“When you land a blow you can come back to Goodneighbor,” Kevin decided. And with a quick push he sent him careening towards Andrew. 

“This almost sounds fun,” Andrew decided. 

Neil didn’t bother to look back at Kevin. He already heard his heavy steps retreating with the other men. Instead, he turned his attention on Andrew, feeling considerably stupid for cradling the bat to his chest like an infant. 

He rolled his shoulders before bringing the bat up and thought of Kevin’s words as he took his first swing. 

If Andrew had been passive before, he certainly had no intention of showing Neil any mercy now. His motions were lightening quick. With every shot that Neil missed, Andrew erupted in a fiercer fit of manic giggles. 

Neil felt rage erupt in his chest, spreading down his arms so that even his hands were hot with pure fury. 

Everything was a blur of swings as Neil pressed on. Andrew barely even bothered to block him. He just moved lazily out of range from Neil’s blows at the last possible second. As time continued, Neil’s movements dissolved into a messy jumble of half-swings and cheap tactics. He even tried to just land a blow to Andrew’s feet, but the bat was sent quickly spiraling away from the force of Andrew’s boots. 

Andrew laughed wildly as Neil went after it. Neil felt his muscles twitch as he wrapped his hands around the bat once again, and he could barely take a breath with the state of his ribs. His arms burned with the intensity of the swings, but he refused to relent. 

Andrew started knocking the bat out of Neil’s grip with every shot he missed, sending Neil miserably hunching after it each time. 

On the fifth try, Andrew wrapped a gloved hand around the spikes in the bat and pushed it back against Neil’s chest. The cold metal stuck into his armor, and with his hands wrapped around the bat, Neil was left exposed enough for Andrew to knock his feet out from under him. Neil fell back unceremoniously, a heap of flesh among the feral ghouls he’d slain. Fierce, intense pain shot through his side as the weight of his injuries pierced through his anger. 

Andrew stood over Neil, crouching slightly so that his hands could rest on his knees. The sun burned fiercely behind Andrew’s head, so that Neil was blinded as he looked up at him. 

“Uh oh. Ribs bothering you?” 

Neil shot him a violent look and reached up for Andrew’s neck, fingertips stretching with a ferocity that betrayed the rest of his body. It didn’t matter, his body spasmed and sent new waves of pain through him. The twitch of motion in his fingertips sent pain down the side of his chest. He didn’t cry out, his teeth grinding tightly as spit escaped from the intense groan he made. 

Andrew swatted his hand away lazily. 

“I’m surprised your mutt isn’t coming to your rescue.” 

Neil could barely take a full breath, the shallowness spreading across his chest as he struggled to contain a cough that was threatening to break through, but his laugh was bitter. Neil didn’t bother to look at Dogmeat, who had quickly grown tired of Neil’s failure. 

“You think anyone comes to my rescue? He knows better than to save me.” 

Andrew’s expression changed, he saw the features shift in a distinct way, but with the sun Neil found his face indecipherable. In the next second, Andrew was walking away from Neil. 

“Crawl your own way back to Goodneighbor,” Andrew said without turning around. “Or run away like I know you’re dying to do.” 

Neil let his head roll back, giving his neck a break from holding it up. Dogmeat trotted over, nudging his head against Neil’s chest to urge him up. He just stayed where he was for a few minutes, too tired to move. Dogmeat didn’t relent in his low whining and it was annoyance alone that got Neil moving. 

“Thanks for the help,” Neil muttered as he finally brought himself up. One look into Dogmeat’s eyes told Neil that he was not impressed by his display against Andrew. 

Dogmeat sniffed at Neil’s broken ribs and let out a low groan, demanding he stand up and get moving. He pushed at the back of Neil’s legs to get him to start walking. Sitting was suicide, and even Dogmeat knew that. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Neil said with shallow breath. His legs did a shit job of supporting him, he decided, and each short gasp for breath was agony. But that was nothing compared to his arms. They twitched in pain, his muscles revolting with every small movement. Just gripping the bat sent shooting pain up through his forearms. 

Neil moved slowly to loop the bat around the utility belt at his hips, but it did little to make his body feel better. His steps were slow and painful. 

The walk back had Dogmeat tensed for any signs of trouble, and irritated at the slow pace Neil was setting. He trotted several paces ahead of Neil, looping back every few yards to check his back and bark. It wasn’t encouragement, Neil was certain of that. 

It felt like it had been a long time since Neil had traveled with anyone. He suddenly felt twelve with his mother throwing nervous glances over her shoulder to see that Neil wasn’t doing anything stupid to endanger them. His mother was all action, with barely any conversation unless she was scolding. There was something comforting in a silent companion who didn’t put up with your injuries. 

Neil didn’t need Dogmeat to love him. Didn’t need him to care if he was bleeding out. He needed silence and cover, and an unrelenting presence commanding him forward. He wondered if Dogmeat could sense Neil’s violence or his nothingness. Wondered what it was that kept him at his side. 

A small bark pulled Neil from his thoughts, and without a second of hesitation he was shuffling over to where Dogmeat was pressing his nose to the side of a building. The concrete had been blown out, so that the entire inside remained exposed. An old donut shop by the looks of the display cases. Neil looked up at the sign. Slocum Joe’s. Neil couldn’t suppress a smirk of recognition for the donut chain. His mother had beat him for his first kiss in the alley of one of these once. 

Dogmeat barked again, impatient, until Neil examined the spot he’d drawn attention to. 

Neil’s fingertips caught on a small cardboard box as he reached around blindly. He pulled it out and opened it, finding several boxes of ammunition and a small gun. The revolver was shit, pieced together with spare metal, but it was something. He would take anything after being stripped of every weapon he had by Andrew. 

“You genius dog,” Neil whispered, scratching fingertips behind Dogmeat’s ears. 

He stuffed the ammo into his pockets and continued back towards Goodneighbor. They moved a bit faster, the new discovery pumping energy into Neil’s body. 

As they approached the settlement, Neil made a mental note to search for any and all escape routes. The walls were unyielding, from what Neil could see outside, but there had to be something more than the main gates. If there wasn’t, Neil wasn’t sure how long he could stay here. 

It was Wymack who found Neil and Dogmeat as they made it through the gate. 

“Kevin told me he had you practice with Andrew. Said I should meet you here.” 

Neil didn’t say a word, rage igniting his chest once again. He tried to shrug, but found intense pain creak up the muscles of his arms. His muscles twitched and spasmed at the movement. 

“Your breathing is shallow,” Wymack said, with a curious eye on Neil’s hands. 

“Pain meds wore off,” Neil grunted. 

“We should get you to Abbie.” 

“Abbie?” Neil echoed. He wanted to walk away, but Wymack was standing in front of him. He refused to turn his back to this man. He took a step off to the side, trying to circle around him without him noticing. 

It didn’t work. 

“She’s the nurse here,” Wymack explained. “I can take you to her.” 

“I don’t need a nurse. I’m fine.” 

“Yeah. You look it.” Wymack said. “Humor me, yeah? Just let her look you over and then you can go back off with Andrew’s lot.” 

Neil decided there was a threat underlaid in those words and nodded stiffly. “Alright then, I’ll see her.” 

He could figure out his move with the nurse once he got there. 

Wymack brought him into the Old State House. Neil already knew that it was where Hancock lived, at the top level with easy access to the balance where he made his public declarations. A few other residents stayed in the lower levels. They eyed Neil curiously as he moved through with Wymack. 

Abbie’s room was on the second level and was supplied with various shiny machines Neil hadn’t even realized where available in the Commonwealth. It was a small room, overcrowded with the machines and her desk and large metal file cabinets and a bed for her patients. She sat on a stool with her back towards Neil and Wymack, writing something in a notebook on her small makeshift desk.

“Abbie,” Wymack said in greeting. 

“Look who hobbled back,” Andrew said from the side of the room before Abbie could say another word. 

Neil turned his attention to where he sat on the floor, legs crossed with hands holding tight to his ankles. He looked so much like a child it startled Neil at first. It didn’t take long for Neil to readjust his feelings. 

“The fuck are you doing here?” Neil snarled.

“Quite snappy, eh coach? Let it be on record that I am no longer the most volatile one here,” Andrew said.

“Cut the shit, Andrew,” Wymack said. 

“Hello,” Abbie interrupted as she turned her attention to them. “You must be Neil.” 

Neil tore his eyes from Andrew and towards Abbie. She was taller than he was and had a soft smile that told Neil she wanted him to trust her. She didn’t extend a hand out to him which Neil appreciated. 

“They have told you who I am,” she continued. “My full designation is Assistive Body and Behavior Infirmary Engineer. Everyone in Goodneighbor just refers to me as Abbie. My creator is no longer alive, there isn’t a need for my full title anymore.” 

Neil was dumbfounded. “What?” 

“Abbie’s a robot,” Andrew supplied. “In a human body.” 

“Synth?” Neil asked. It was the only word he could think of suddenly. 

“Not quite,” Abbie corrected. “I was a robot first. Then my memories were transplanted into a synthetic humanoid body. Synths are created by the Institute. Robots existed before the war, you know.” 

Neil failed to see the difference, but it seemed important to her for whatever reason, so he dropped it. 

“Your injuries are severe. I can tell from your breathing pattern.” 

“Broken ribs,” Neil said. 

“We have a portable X-ray machine,” Abbie said. “Taken from the old hospital in the city. Let’s assess the damage, yes?” 

Neil eyed her skeptically. “They leave,” he said pointing to the other men. 

“Of course,” Abbie said without missing a beat. “Doctor-patient confidentially.” She said that like it actually meant anything to Neil. 

She ushered Wymack and Andrew out of the room and closed the doors behind them. 

“If you will have a seat on the bed, I will prepare the machine and ask for some initial health information.” 

“I’ll tell you about these injuries, but that’s it. Nothing else.” 

Abbie didn’t object. “When did you sustain these injuries?” 

“Four days ago.” 

“Just this area here?” Abbie asked, pressing a soft hand to Neil’s side. 

“Yes.” 

Dogmeat let out a low growl as she rolled the X-ray machine towards Neil, as distrustful as Neil felt. Abbie did her best to ignore the dog as he followed her around the room. She rotated the arm of the X-ray machine and spent a few moments playing around with the machine until she decided on Neil’s state of health.

“Cracked ribs, for sure. Though you are lucky you have not sustained any further internal damage. No complications with the lungs. It doesn’t seem likely you will develop pneumonia as long as you keep treating it. This is good. How have you been treating this injury?” 

“High doses of pain killers,” Neil lied. He was taking pills for the pain, but not at any high dosage. He didn’t trust himself to be high, especially around Andrew’s lot. He’d dealt with broken ribs before and it had been fine. He could make it through this time as well. “Breathing exercises.” 

“You have some medical experience?” 

  
A dozen injuries flashed through Neil’s mind. His mother’s broken shoulder, bullet wounds, a broken ankle, fingers bent sideways, knifes visible as they moved under flesh. 

“Some,” Neil said. 

Abbie nodded at that, seemingly pleased. “There are additional painkillers here in my file cabinents. I can provide you with more of those so that you can continue breathing as normal.” 

Neil nodded. 

“I will give you a stimpak as well.” 

“Stimpak,” Neil echoed. 

“Oh yes, stimulation delivery package,” Abbie said. She pulled out a syringe with a small gauge attached at the top from the drawer to her left. 

“I don’t want one of those,” Neil decided, standing immediately. His vision flashed to the syringe at his mother’s neck. Dogmeat was already heading towards the door. 

“It is perfectly safe,” Abbie said. “Manufactured before the war even. A high potency mix of antibiotics and fast healing medicines. One of the modern marvels of medicine at the time. I made them frequently in the lab, and have replicated the process here as well.” 

“I won’t take it.” 

“It will help your injuries to heal faster,” Abbie said with a slight frown. 

“My injuries are fine,” Neil said quickly. “Am I free to leave now?” 

“Of course,” Abbie said, her frown drawn further down her face. “But I really must recommend you take one of these. And we should check on your injuries from practice today.” 

Neil left before she could finish speaking, pushing past Wymack to exit the building, Dogmeat at his heels. He’d be damned if he was injected with anything so close to Andrew and Kevin. He’d take his chances with his bones healing the old-fashioned way.

He felt paralyzed for a moment, but Dogmeat continued further into the settlement propelling him along as well. The air was cool as they moved through Goodneighbor. Eager to dissipate the anxiety he felt curling its way through his limbs, Neil decided it was as good time as ever to survey the settlement properly. 

He spent the rest of the afternoon exploring Goodneighbor, learning its every crevice. It was much smaller than Diamond City - with less than a quarter of the people - and it only had two exits, the two main gates off either side of the Old State House. Neil pressed a hand flat to the far wall, pushing slightly to test the integrity of the metal. It wastoo high and too smooth to climb without any proper footing. 

Neil felt trapped. He threw a glance over his shoulder, curious if anyone was watching, before doing another lap around the settlement. He was sure there had to be a better way out if he needed it. 

Neil recognized which of the buildings were residences - only the Old State House and the apartments above the warehouse. The Hotel Rexford seemed to mostly be for people passing through. As he started to think his alternative escape might be scaling the four story building across from the Old State House, he caught movement in the window of another building. 

Kevin. Moving with a fluidity Neil was envious of once again. It was almost hard to tell where one motion stopped and another began. He was practicing his fighting technique with a robot, one that actually looked like a robot this time. It was the size and shape of a human, but was made entirely of metal. Not a synth, Neil assumed, given the paint designating it as property of the US Military. 

It only took a few second for the residual anger Neil felt towards Kevin from earlier to fizzle out as he watched. For all the shit he had given Neil, Neil recognized that look of furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips on Kevin’s face. It was an expression filled with disappointment, fiercer than the looks that he had thrown at Neil, and it was reflected inward. Neil wondered what Kevin’s insults were for himself. Whatever he was thinking it was intense as he swung again and again at the robot. 

It was almost beautiful. Neil had never seen that look, that ferocity channeled so fiercely towards hope. Towards a belief that one person could really change circumstances. Neil felt a small breath escape through his teeth, pass over his slightly parted lips. He allowed himself to watch for another moment before speaking. 

“Surprised you’re not practicing with him,” Neil said. He’d felt Andrew’s eyes on him as soon as he’d approached the window. 

“Are you?” 

Andrew didn’t elaborate. 

“You’re better than the robot.” 

“Flattery,” Andrew said flatly. “Didn’t expect that move from you.” 

“It’s not flattery,” Neil said, fiercely for a reason he couldn’t put into words. 

Andrew was quiet once again. Neil bit on several responses that came into his mind. 

Finally he turned to face him. He was a few feet away, leaning against the wall of an adjacent building, arms folded across his chest.

“What’s the point of joining Kevin if you don’t train with him?” Neil asked. 

“What _is_ the point, Neil Josten?” There was a challenge hidden in his name. Neil couldn’t decipher exactly what it was, but he felt his stomach start a steady decent towards the ground. 

“You don’t believe what he is doing?” 

“Do you?” 

Neil was growing tired of his return questions. 

“He thinks there is a real possibility to unify the Commonwealth. Don’t you want to try to make life easier for you all?” 

“You do it, if you believe what he says.” 

Neil worked his jaw as he tried not to explode. Another challenge, clearer this time. Why are you here? 

“Exactly,” Andrew said in response to Neil’s silence. “Kevin thinks you’ll be there, right at his side. He thinks you’ll help him lead the new movement. Join the Minutemen and the Railroad together in a fight to save the Commonwealth. Neil Josten, a commander for the new order.” 

“He doesn’t,” Neil said, turning his gaze back to Kevin. 

“But you don’t see yourself here.” Andrew said, ignoring Neil’s words. “Don’t see yourself anywhere, and somehow don’t remember where you were before. And yet, you’re training with him. Your loose ends aren’t adding up.” 

Dogmeat’s bark was loud and unyielding as Neil turned on Andrew. 

“And you?” Neil snapped. “Someone so set on apathy towards living sure manages a high body count in the name of protection if you don’t care about Kevin’s cause.” 

“I will figure you out,” Andrew said before turning away from him. 

It sounded almost like a threat, but Neil knew that wasn’t Andrew’s style. There wasn’t a need for threats when the words he spoke were true. He would figure him out, and Neil need to be prepared to have a version of himself that was satisfying when that time came. 

His words echoed in Neil’s head. _By Kevin’s side. A leader. Commander._

It was a promise Neil had never realized he was entitled to - a future. Planning. Being a part of something. 

Neil swallowed hard, reminding himself that it didn’t matter. That potential was nothing when it came to him, when it came to his father being alive. He had spent his whole existence being nothing. Here, there was nothing, but the people he met so far were still something. Alive. Surviving, but in a way so unique to how he had done it all his life. The war, the fallout, had made them survivors. Neil’s existence made survival necessary but he wasn’t a survivor. That implied that there was an end goal he might meet. The only end he could look forward to was at the end of a sharpened cleaver. There was no potential, no hope, like with everyone else. There was no purpose he could move himself towards. 

Neil would have been lying if he said he trusted Kevin’s motives. It was clear he wasn’t a part of the Brotherhood. And it seemed that he was trusted among everyone surrounding him. But why would he go through such great lengths to recruit Neil? He’d taken the courser chip. Did he know somehow who Neil was? Could he recognize his eyes? Did he know his father? 

Neil watched Kevin a little longer, sparing a glance every so often to where Andrew was sitting on the ground inside the building. He didn’t bother to look at Neil, but the intent was clear: Kevin’s under my protection. 

It hurt somehow, in a small space within Neil’s chest, to keep watching. He tore his eyes away finally, pressing his back against the glass to steady his thoughts. Dogmeat stood directly in front of him, his big brown eyes boring into Neil. He fell to a crouch and let the comfort of Dogmeat’s sniffs pull him back into himself. 

“He’s lying,” Neil decided. “You were there today, you heard Kevin. He doesn’t think I can hold a gun, let alone lead a movement.” 

Dogmeat made no noise, only continued to press his wet nose to Neil’s forehead. 

“Let’s keep looking around,” Neil decided after a moment. Dogmeat was up and circling his legs in a second. 

The closest distraction came in the form of the large yellow neon sign just a few feet around the corner. KILL OR BE KILLED it read, followed by a smaller sign that read GUNS GUNS GUNS. 

Dogmeat barked and scampered into the store. 

A robot stood behind the counter, the metal of its body painted a deep black. Similar to the robot Kevin had been battling, a star with USA written underneath was stenciled with white paint on its chest. A large red light in the center of its face had Neil wanting to dismember it immediately. 

“Hello,” she purred. “I was wondering when you were going to come by.” 

“You know who I am?” Neil asked, eyes darting to take in the details of the shop. 

“I saw your display in the square last night. Surprised it took you so long to head in here when you’re hanging around Andrew’s bunch. My name is KL-E-O. Kleo. I am the proprietor of this independent shop.” 

“What are you selling?” Neil asked, looking at the array of ammunition on the counter. 

“Anything that can kill a man, I sell. Except suicidal depression. That, unfortunately, is not packageable.” 

_Tasteful_.

“I don’t have any caps,” Neil explained. 

“Maybe you are ready to get that vault suit off your hands then?” Kleo asked. 

“They tried to sell it?” 

“Andrew wanted to see if I could tell if it was second-hand. You are the original owner, yes? I can tell. You are too shiny to have been in the Commonwealth that long.” 

“And what did you tell him?” Neil demanded. 

Kleo assessed Neil for a minute. “Twenty caps and I’ll tell you how our conversation went.” 

“You think I care enough to pay for that information?” 

“Twenty caps, take it or leave it.” 

“I told you I don’t have any money. The best I can do is a box of .45 ammunition.” 

“Done.” 

Neil slid the box across the counter. 

“The suit was too new to be secondhand, even for a vault dweller, I told him. They still wear them down there and the integrity of the fabric should have been compromised from prolonged use. The suit is too pristine even for that cushy existence. It was either stolen from unopened Vault-Tec boxes or there is something else to the story. I offered him 475 caps for the piece. It’s new and the cushioning against weapon damage and radiation makes it a better piece than other Vault suits. 111 is a special place and hardly anyone has ever passed through with any materials from it. Was it you that scavenged the place?” 

So, Andrew must know that he wasn’t simply a vault dweller. Dan hadn’t realized there was anything strange about him being in a vault when thy first met. Apparently, most of the vaults in the Commonwealth still had people inhabiting them, generations apart from their original occupants. Most people in the Commonwealth didn’t bother going to them, because vault defenses were crafted expertly by the US military, and there was no need to risk getting skewered for a few rolls of gauze or food free from radiation. Only the desperate bothered, and they never made it back anyway. 

“What else do you know about Vault 111?” he asked, ignoring her question. 

“Farthest Vault in the Commonwealth, located North of Concord. People have tried to scavenge it, but the security outside of the vault is too intense. It is one of the best secured vaults around. It’s been sealed since the bombs went off.” 

Well, that wasn’t true. Kellogg had gotten in somehow. But it calmed Neil a bit that there was almost nothing known about the vault. All the other members of the vault had died when their cryogenic pods had stopped providing life support. He’d seen evidence of their dead bodies himself as he made his escape. Neil was the sole survivor, so no one could betray whatever lies he decided to spin about his backstory. 

“How did _you_ find out about Vault 111?” Kleo asked. 

“Didn’t pay to answer _your_ questions,” Neil said gruffly. “Tell Andrew anything else?”

She waited a moment. “You know, he’ll kill you if your lies don’t pan out.” 

“Threat?” Neil asked through gritted teeth. 

“I don’t make threats. I kill at my own discretion and human beings are hardly worth my energy. If you aren’t buying anything, get out.” 

Neil didn’t bother being told twice. 

The bullshit amnesia line wouldn’t work on Andrew when he asked. Neil knew that but he didn’t know what else he could say without giving away some part of his secret. And why hadn’t Andrew confronted Neil on it? He’d had plenty of opportunities. Maybe he didn’t care. Maybe he relegated Neil not worth his time and could care less to try and piece together his story. Neil hoped that was the case, but doubted it when he remembered Andrew’s unwavering gaze. 


	7. Show No Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Andrew brings Neil hunting, has a chat with Betsy, and moves from aggression to murder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for violence again. If you don't want to see Andrew's violence when he is self-motivated (read: raw fists and baseball bat style) instead of indifferent in front of Kevin, kindly skip ahead once you get to the paragraph that begins "Andrew rolled his shoulder, twitched his fingers" and pick back up when you see dialogue again :) 
> 
> Finally, basically all of my responses to comments seem to be some form of "Thank you so much!!" which as trite as it is annoying, I'm sure. I really want to be clear with how much I honestly appreciate all of the comments and kudos I've been receiving. It is so good to see people enjoying this story. It gives me motivation to keep going and confidence that I'm doing these characters right. So thank you, thank you, thank you again for providing me with feedback and showing your appreciation for this story. I may be shit at responding, but know that I sincerely mean it!! 
> 
> Without further ado...

Despite being in one of the most secure settlements around, with hot food, fresh water and coffee surrounding him, Neil looked close to falling over. Andrew wondered vaguely when the last time the boy slept was. He hadn’t trusted them enough to stay at the Hotel Rexford apparently, despite Wymack offering up a room with its own key. He also refused to be anywhere near Hancock. There were thick black circles under his eyes, and his footsteps were getting sloppy. 

It was perplexing, given his dog never left his side. Any average drifter would have knocked out for an entire day—especially with bruised ribs, busted arms, and what were the makings of malnutrition. Andrew watched as Neil insisted on boiling his own water, eating the random scraps of food he had left in his duffel but nothing in the settlement. Andrew wondered what exactly it was that had him so terrified that he refused to sustain himself. If he was interested in living, this was hardly the way to do it. 

He fiddled with his Pip-boy non-stop, but never utilized the radio or any of the other features. He just stared at the map from what Andrew could see from the glances he'd caught over the boys’ shoulder. It crossed Andrew’s mind that the device was a perfect way for someone to contact him discreetly with instructions. Andrew considered, not for the first time since his arrival, the possibility that Neil was a mole for the Brotherhood. 

It was clear he would refuse to sleep, but the eating was grating on Andrew’s nerves. Neil wouldn’t be a fun toy if he went and killed himself with something stupid like a hunger strike. 

Andrew approached Neil where he was sitting on the ground in the far corner of the settlement, his back leaned against the concrete of the storage warehouse. His eyes were closed, face tipped up towards the early morning sun. The handle of his bat was cradled against his chest. Dogmeat’s head rested in his lap. He appraised Andrew as he walked over, lifting his head to get a better sense of the man. 

Andrew kicked Neil’s boot to get his attention. 

“We’re going hunting.” 

Neil opened his eyes and looked up at him. He hadn’t taken his armor off since they’d gotten here and didn’t go anywhere with the bat. If it was any settlement other than Goodneighbor, people might’ve thought he was insane. 

“Hunting?” Neil echoed, idiot that he was. 

“I’m sick of watching you mope. It’s grating on my nerves. Too good to eat anything here? Fine, take your chances killing your own shit then.” 

Neil opened his mouth, a smirk framing what was likely to be a rough retort. At the last moment he seemed to realize he didn’t have the energy to bother. Resentment shadowed across his features. 

“Where are we hunting?” Neil asked instead. He hadn’t made any indication that he was moving from where he was seated. Dogmeat didn’t even look up at Andrew from his side, somehow indicating Neil’s indifference to Andrew’s offer. 

Andrew narrowed his eyes slightly, appraising the suspicion in Neil’s frame. 

“Just down by the harbor. There’s an old park near the Aquarium that some animals use to graze.”

Neil nodded and got to his feet, patting Dogmeat on the head as he did so. 

Andrew headed over to where Kevin was speaking to Hancock. Andrew knew as soon as he was within earshot that Kevin was discussing the strength of the settlement’s defenses and lost all interest in carrying any kind of conversation with Kevin for the remainder of the day. 

“Going hunting,” Andrew announced. 

Hancock threw a glance to where Neil stood a bit behind him and raised an eyebrow. “Taking the kid?” 

“Yep,” Andrew said, making a loud pop at the end of the word. 

“Take the rifle from the guard post before you go.” 

“You’re giving him a gun?” Andrew asked, eyebrow raised. 

“Everyone needs to pull weight around here. If he’s going to kill us, he’ll do it anyway. At least a bullet to the head will be quick and painless.” He turned his gaze on Neil, who stared back at him but didn’t say a word.

“We’ll be fortunate if that’s how he decides to do it,” Andrew said, but he was amused. Amused by the trust Neil kept seeming to get from others. Nicky. Wymack. Abbie. Now Hancock. 

“He definitely needs the practice,” Kevin said with a frigid look in Neil’s direction. 

“Guess not all of us are trained killers,” Neil said, his voice even and low. 

Andrew let out a loud laugh. “Oh, you’re so pitiful when you lie.” 

“Hunting party,” Nicky called out with a sing-song voice as he walked over with Aaron.

Andrew spared a glance at his twin, expression sullen. 

“Let’s get this over with,” Aaron said, heading out the gate. 

“There’s that enthusiasm we all love,” Nicky said clapping his hand on Aaron’s shoulder and laughing. 

Andrew let them take the lead, waiting to walk behind Neil. For whatever reason, Dogmeat separated from Neil’s side to walk between him and Andrew. Every so often he would throw his head back to Andrew, appraising him with those wide brown eyes before making a small grumbling sound and turning back around to trot after his owner. Andrew supposed it might not have been so weird if Neil wasn’t do the exact same thing, throwing glances back at Andrew every so often. Nicky stood at his side, chatting away about routines of Goodneighbor chores, and asking moderately noisy questions that Neil deflected away with a practiced dialogue. Nicky was an expert schmoozer though, and one small order from Andrew before they had left to keep Neil talking kept him persistent, even despite Kevin’s insistence that they shut up so as to not attract attention. 

The route to the hunting grounds was a single road—State Street. It wasn’t more than a ten minute walk, even with caution. Andrew titled his head up to the sky for most of the walk, staring into the sun directly enough to bring tears to his eyes. It felt right somehow, staring at that blue so intently that he began to lose his vision. He hummed lowly to himself, swinging his bat in a circular motion like a pinwheel around him as he listened to Neil’s evasive answers and half-responses. 

Dogmeat turned around just as they were approaching the old Aquarium subway station, stopping in front of Andrew to let out a low growl. Andrew watched as Neil’s frame loosened, tensed for a fight and desperate for cover. 

“Wall,” Andrew called out in an even voice the moment he heard the rustling from a few yards behind him. 

They moved quickly, with practiced footsteps and weapons drawn. Aaron and Nicky rushed to the right side of the street and looped around an adjacent building until they were out of sight. Kevin and Neil scurried to the other side of the wide street, Neil clinging to his gun like it might actually do him so good. Dogmeat kept at Andrew’s side, equally slow and cautious in his steps towards the other boys. His fur was raised, ears alert, eyes trained on the street as he moved to put himself between Andrew and their attackers. 

Kevin was leaping on to the fire escape of a building on the corner of an adjacent street the moment they made it into the shadows. He motioned for Neil and Andrew to follow. Andrew moved before Neil did. Neil seemed particularly eager to stay on solid ground. 

“Now,” Kevin said harshly from above him. 

It was enough to send Neil moving. He brought himself up the ladder with a practiced efficiency—silent in his movements. The fire escape hardly provided the best cover, but it was enough to provide at the very least a decent place to scope out the area. There were four raiders total. They had limited armor and no guns on them, and moved in clunky unpracticed motions. Inexperienced, likely supply runners rather than mercenaries. 

“Raiders,” Neil whispered as he crouched in position. 

"Points for Neil Josten," Andrew said, giving a slow clap. "Very, _very_ good!" 

“Try it,” Kevin said, his voice low, throwing his chin towards the gun. 

Kevin didn’t look at Andrew, but that didn’t mean Andrew didn’t know what he was trying to do. Kevin was hopeless, but Andrew couldn’t deny his interest was piqued. His eyes trained on Neil, curious to how he might react to the challenge. 

He watched as Neil held the scope to his eye, let out a slow breath, and pulled the trigger. He missed. And it was several more shots before he clipped the leg of the raider and sent him down, sending the others scrambling for cover. 

Kevin wrenched the gun from Neil’s hands and fired off four shots: one for each raider. He threw a look of disgust in Neil’s direction before shoving the gun back at him. 

“You can practice on bottles like a child when we get back to Goodneighbor. Maybe you’ll learn to hit something.” 

Andrew was laughing wildly as Neil frowned down at the gun. 

“Guess you aren’t the hope he was looking for after all,” Andrew said, still laughing.

“That’s what I’ve been telling you,” Neil said. His words were fierce, but there was something like despondency in them. His anger directed inwards for a reason Andrew couldn’t decipher. 

It was true: that was what he had been telling them. It might have been the first thing Neil had said since they’d met him. Andrew had assumed it was an act. He was rough in his style, but it was clear Neil had experience fighting for his life. The fact that he couldn’t fire a gun complicated things in a way Andrew hadn’t considered before. Not even a new initiate of the Brotherhood could get away with such incompetence. Their specialty was military grade weaponry, not melee pieces and blunt force. Andrew supposed it was possible he was faking, but it didn’t seem likely somehow. This new discovery did nothing to ease Andrew’s apprehension of the other boy—the more confusion that surrounded Neil, the worse his chances for surviving Andrew became. 

Neil was wordless the rest of the way, immune even to Nicky’s conversation. Every so often he would look down at the gun in his hands and shake his head ever so slightly. Dogmeat stayed at his side, nudging his leg in what appeared to be comfort each time Neil shook his head. 

It didn’t take long after their encounter with the raiders to reach the harbor. There was a herd of radstag grazing along the old wharf, and no other enemies—ghoul, monster, or human—in sight. Nicky started cheering almost immediately, with no regard for scaring away the animals, and even Aaron seemed pleased to find a good haul. Kevin was unimpressed as usual, but no one ever expected him to be grateful after a lifetime growing up with Brotherhood reserves at his disposal. As was becoming too commonplace, it was Neil’s reaction that gave Andrew pause. Neil froze in his tracks almost immediately upon seeing the animals. 

Neil’s expression was trained, but his eyes went wide with surprise as he saw the animals. Radstag: two-dead mutated deer. They were fairly common in the Commonwealth, and besides Brahmin one of the better tasting meat options. Neil looked as though he couldn’t believe his eyes. Andrew squinted as he waited for Neil’s expression to reveal something more substantial, but it didn’t change. In a moment his eyes had narrowed back to their cool, appraising state. 

“Fuck yes,” Nicky hollered. “Radstag.” 

Kevin muttered something about Neil pulling his weight before making quick work of the animals. He killed off three, the fourth one running off before Kevin could get to it, and directed Aaron and Nicky to grab the farthest one. 

“You get your own,” Kevin told Neil before going off to haul his own. “Have Andrew help you haul it back.” 

“I can do it myself,” Neil said, but the words didn’t have their usual harshness. He was still staring at the dead creatures. 

“Don’t be stupid. You’re no use to me if you’re injured.” 

“Doesn’t seem like I’m much use to you now,” Neil said, all smirky and dripping self-deprecation. Kevin ignored him. To admit that fact was to admit that Kevin had been wrong about Neil’s potential, and that wasn’t something Kevin could do without letting his last bit of hope extinguish. For someone so confused, Neil sure knew the exact ways to corner Kevin. 

“Better listen to him,” Andrew chastised as Kevin walked away. “Or he’ll never let you play hero.” 

“You’re lying about what he said.” Neil’s words were surer than they had been last night. He’d apparently made up his mind about this. “Kevin has no intention to do anything of the things you said.”

“Ah, I see we walk the path of denial,” Andrew said, a wide smile on his face. 

Neil shook his head and started off towards the closest radstag. Andrew joined him without a word. The group mobilized quickly, despite carrying the large animals. Dogmeat took point on the way back, running up and down the street as he inspected for potential threats. If nothing else, he was at least useful. Any other positive feelings he might have had for the animal died as he watched Neil crane his neck to follow the dog’s every movement. 

“You do know he probably has a better chance of survival than you do, right?” 

Neil didn’t bother turning his attention on Andrew. “He definitely does.” 

Andrew left it at that and took to examining Neil. He was in need of a new helmet. Andrew had taken it with them after they had raided him down by Concord and sold it to Kleo for a decent amount of caps. It kept him more exposed, any ordinary blow to the head would scatter his brains across the streets of the city, but he hadn’t replaced it since he had no caps to buy another one. Instead he kept his bangs out of his eyes with a dirty orange bandana. His face was pretty—objectively Andrew could see that—younger than his fighting experience suggested, but with sharp angles that seemed designed for the perpetual smirk he wore, designed for that special combination of self-deprecation, rage, and confusion that fixed Neil’s features in place. His eyes were most difficult to ignore: anxious, assessing, ceaseless. He looked a moment away from death, in more ways than one. 

Despite the fact that it would be considerably easier for Neil to carry his half of the radstag if he faced forward, he seemed determined not to have his back to Andrew in the moment. Andrew supposed that made sense, given that his hands were essentially useless under the weight of the animal, but it did nothing to ease his suspicion. Everyone seemed afraid to have their backs to Andrew, but Neil seemed afraid for all the wrong reasons, for reasons Andrew hadn’t pieced together quite yet. 

They didn’t run into any other trouble on the walk back, but it took longer to arrive at the settlement with the animals. Nicky wouldn’t quit his chattering, alternating between describing the feast he was going to have the cooks prepare and the agony of having to drag the animal back to camp. Aaron and Kevin alternated between telling Nicky to shut up, but both Neil and Andrew remained silent. 

Hancock was waiting by the main gate as they entered the settlement, his expression uncharacteristically serious. 

“Wymack needs to see you,” he said as they deposited the radstag by the main gate to be butchered. His words were gruff. “Says it is urgent.” 

Andrew watched the blood drain from Kevin’s face. 

“He say what about?” Nicky asked, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. 

“Let’s just go,” Kevin said quickly. 

“Uh oh,” Andrew sang. “Kevin’s nervous. You know what that means.” 

Kevin ignored him and started for the Hotel Rexford as Andrew laughed. He followed him through the doors and up the stairs, the others trailing lazily behind. Even Neil followed, which Andrew found more entertaining than noteworthy.

Wymack was waiting for them in his room. He motioned quickly for them to take a seat. He wasted no time in breaking the news. 

“It’s the Brotherhood of Steel,” Wymack said. His face was carefully trained on Andrew. “They’ve just sent out a radio broadcast calling all Paladins into the Airport. Apparently they’ve taken it over and are flying their airship up from DC.” 

“Baiting our Kevin or what?” Andrew asked. His attention was on Neil, curious to see how he was taking this news. It was becoming increasingly likely that he was working for them, even with his terrible aim. 

It didn’t seem to bother him one way or another. There was a practiced calm spread across Neil’s features. Andrew supposed if he was working for them, he’d have expected this conversation eventually. Whether his boredom was a part of the act or not was up in the air. 

“That’s why we are meeting. They sent a special message to Goodneighbor, on the private frequencies. It was clear: Kevin is to report as well.”

“Was the ‘or else’ specified, or is it Riko’s usual bullshit?” Andrew asked.

“They’ll send in an extraction team. Made it clear you’re the first to be eliminated,” Wymack said to Andrew.

“Lame,” Andrew declared, hands cupped around his mouth to project the sound.

“He can’t do that,” Nicky said, but his voice was filled with uncertainty. “Can he?” 

“He can do whatever he wants,” Kevin said. There was no anger in his voice. He was quiet as he said it, resigned to the power he had grown up under. A wide smile spread across Andrew’s face, teeth barred and vicious. Andrew took to turning in his chair to face Kevin head on. 

“How long have you known about this?” he asked Kevin. “I see it in those dodgy little eyes of yours.”

“Since we got back from the run in with Jean,” Kevin explained. 

_The run in with Jean_ , Andrew thought. _The first time they’d seen the vault dweller._ This was too much coincidence for Andrew to feel comfortable with. He added this to the list of problems Neil seemed to be at the center of. Andrew had made sure Kevin hadn’t told anyone about their encounter with Jean, but his eyes glanced to Wymack anyway, trying to gauge if the older man knew their small secret. 

It didn’t seem so. Wymack said, “It’s on me. Made him promise not to say anything to anyone. It wasn’t until the broadcast went out to everyone this afternoon that it became clear Riko was mobilizing the Brotherhood forces.” 

"Betraying one promise to honor another. Typical,” Andrew said to Kevin. 

“You can’t let them get me.” Desperation dripped from Kevin’s voice. 

“Did I make a promise to you, or didn’t I?” 

“Andrew, he’ll kill me--”

“Do you think I am incapable of upholding my promised to you?”

“No,” Kevin said. It came out uncertain, but as he continued to speak he calmed considerably. “No. I trust you.” 

“Good. Now stop being an idiot.” Andrew stood up. “I can’t stand the sight of you right now.” 

He walked out of the room with no regard for anyone’s objections. If Kevin insisted on making his job more difficult and have the audacity to beg for Andrew’s protection when it had already been given to him, Andrew had nothing to contribute that wouldn’t directly violate the promise he made. He needed Renee, and wished not for the first time that they were closer to one another for moments exactly as this one. He felt the drugs pump through him, a reminder of rage he couldn’t quite feel, and laughed as he exited the Rexford. 

Andrew went right for the Memory Den, a small building off the right of the hotel, that was especially popular with the tourists. The inside was decorated like an explosion of pre-war Valentine’s Day cards—all deep red and pale pinks—with six padded lounge chairs that housed memory machines that lined the walls. In the back of the large room was a platform with computers. Behind them sat Dr. Betsy Dobson, who looked up from her desk as Andrew burst through the doors. 

“Bee,” Andrew declared, throwing his arms wide as he announced his arrival. “How’s about a session?” 

“Andrew. This is certainly a surprise.” 

“Ooh, Bee. I got some juicy stuff for you tonight, let me tell you.” 

“I will get the hot chocolate. You can head down to the basement.” 

Andrew hummed as he made his way down the stairs, pacing as he got to Dobson’s private office. There were two armchairs, a rug made from braided scraps of cloth, and that was basically it. As a trained psychologist, Dobson made her living working memory machines upstairs that allowed people to access past memories or implant new ones. It was another form of escape, Andrew supposed, though he didn’t need a machine to access every detail of his memory. Not that he would want to anyway. 

Betsy came down with two mugs of hot chocolate and handed one to Andrew as she passed him to take a seat. She was quiet as she waited for Andrew to start speaking, not even commenting on the steady pace Andrew had set as he circled the room. 

He refused to waste his breath on Kevin tonight. So he asked, “You meet Neil yet?”

“Neil Josten,” she clarified uselessly. “He is the boy Wymack brought over from Diamond City?” 

“That very one. Feral looking thing. Too much fight in his eyes and too many lies dripping from his mouth.” 

“I haven’t met him yet,” Bee disclosed. 

“Well, it’ll be a matter of time before Wymack drags him here I’m sure.” 

“Do you think we will get along?” 

Andrew snorted. “I doubt he trusts psychologists anymore than he trusts anyone else here.” 

Betsy smiled at that. “Maybe he will surprise us.” 

“I don’t like surprises.” 

“Maybe it will be a pleasant surprise,” Betsy said before taking a sip from her mug. 

“What a novel idea, Bee.” Andrew drained half his cup in one gulp. 

“Sounds like you don’t particularly like him.” 

“He’s a liar. I smell it on him.” He stopped his pacing to give her a hard look. “He avoids all conversation about his past. Like he just fell into this world a week ago or something.” 

“There are plenty of reasons Neil might feel uncomfortable disclosing his history,” she pointed out. 

“None that are going to help him survive around me.” 

Betsy’s smile was small and calculated. 

“I’m assuming Wymack has shared the news with you,” she said. Her small attempt to redirect the conversation. 

“He told you too. Before me.” 

“I was there in Hancock’s office when the message came through. How are you taking the news?” 

“Riko is an idiot,” Andrew said. 

“Are you worried he might follow through on his threats?” 

“Bee? Let’s not talk about things we don’t understand, yes?” 

“Do you understand Neil then?” she countered. Like every counter-point Bee made, it was small enough to be entertaining. 

Andrew’s smile was wide and vicious. “You sneaky thing, you.” He wagged a finger at her. “This is why they pay you the big bucks.” 

She was silent, waiting for Andrew to either end the session or guide the conversation. He finished the rest of his cocoa and set the empty mug on the side table next to his chair. 

“Don’t you have patients waiting for you to poke around their brains?” 

Bee smiled again. She raised her hands slightly from where they sat folded on her lap and shrugged her shoulders gently, the gesture a show of her commitment to tending to them. 

“Think there will need to be another supply line?” Andrew asked. 

Betsy’s challenge cut all possibility of continuing to rant about Neil, and with the refusal to speak about Kevin, Andrew was left with limited conversation topics but too much energy for silence. They discussed nearly every aspect of the settlement—supply lines, Hancock’s recent mayoral decisions, Wymack’s arrival. It wasn’t gossip, that was far too petty and Andrew honestly couldn’t have cared about any of the information he gleaned from their discussion, but it was enough of an activity that it burned off some of the energy from the drugs. Betsy tried to circle back to topics more specific to Andrew’s feelings, but never pushed harder than she knew she could.

* * *

 

It was dusk when Andrew finally exited the Memory Den. Goodneighbor was bustling with people coming back from their chores, relaxing in the central plaza with booze and cigarettes. Hancock chatted with the neighborhood watch, holding two fingers up to his temple and saluting Andrew lazily as he passed. Andrew returned the salute with a wide vicious smile. Andrew surveyed the rest of the settlement, and stopped to watch Neil when he finally caught sight of him. 

Neil was on top of the guard tower by the west gate. Andrew watched Neil as Nicky chatted away at the watch post, waving his hands around dramatically at whatever ridiculous story he was telling. Neil was nodding along, but Andrew could see the tension in him. He was responding appropriately, but just barely. He looked about ready to crumble under the social pressure of sustaining a conversation. 

Andrew knew Kevin was locked in his room at the Rexford, Aaron with him, as Wymack tried to talk him down. They wouldn’t dare be anywhere else with Andrew’s disappearance, not that Kevin was in any kind of state to move; they wouldn’t chance it. Andrew didn't have the patience to play the babysitting game with Kevin tonight. And he was in need of an activity. 

He climbed the ladder up to the watch tower and signaled for Nicky to beat it. They were quiet for only a moment as Nicky scrambled away. 

Neil threw his chin towards Andrew’s forearms. “Planning to pull a knife?” 

"Oh, Neil," Andrew said, leaning his weight over the side of the tower. "How you misunderstand me. I never _plan_ to do anything." 

"Or you plan everything, right down to the tiniest detail. I haven’t decided yet." 

"Don't you know I'm a monster?" Andrew fanned his fingers out around his face and wiggled them. "Boo." 

"Violence just radiates out of you uncontrolled, right? Manic and unpredictable." 

"Mmm," Andrew hummed. "My favorite words." 

Neil looked less than convinced. A lair could spot another liar then, huh? 

Andrew didn't mind being on Neil’s radar. It made things more fun that way. 

"Kill anything good yet?" Andrew asked, looking out to the city. 

"Well, you're still here," was his reply. Andrew let out a laugh with that. 

“Oh, your lack self-preservation is hilarious." 

"Nicky said Riko heads the Brotherhood, but the story is more complicated than that isn't it?" 

Andrew turned his attention to Neil's face. He needed to stop presuming to find anything substantial when he looked there. It was as nauseating as it was disorienting to see that Neil’s expression was never what he anticipated. 

"If you want a history lesson talk to Wymack." 

"I'm being serious, Andrew." 

"So am I. Don't play a game of questions with me unless you're willing to answer mine." 

Neil opened his mouth, clearly ready to fire off some retort, before he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. The move was enough to rile irritation out of Andrew. 

Trust wasn’t something people tended to throw around haphazardly in the commonwealth—between the Institute snatching bodies and any number of people raiding one another—hardly anyone was in a trusting mood when it came to strangers. But Andrew could see that it was something else, something distinct, that kept Neil on edge. He wasn't afraid of what someone would do to him—kidnap, torture, whatever. He was afraid of what someone would find out about him. Andrew saw it in every evasive answer, every clear lie. 

He couldn't piece together his backstory. Andrew had no idea why Neil had been in Vault 111. It was clear from his chat with Kleo that he hadn’t purchased the vault suit off anyone. Kleo also seemed convinced he hadn't worn it, but the truth of it was Andrew and Kevin had already seen him wearing it. 

He hadn't thought about the run in with Jean until Wymack's announcement tonight, even though it kept rattling around in his mind every so often. Before Lexington, they'd seen Neil in Cambridge, locked in a confrontation with one Jean Moreau. It turned violent quickly, but Jean was in power armor so there was little Neil could do. It didn’t deter him from training his violence on the larger man, but it did deter him from winning. When he'd been rocked so hard in the stomach that he was no longer able to fight properly, he scrambled away like a rabbit—fast, darting around corners of buildings and through alleyways, until he disappeared. 

Kevin had wanted to follow him. He told Andrew it was important, that they needed him if he was on Jean’s radar, and couldn’t he tell that he was a good fighter, even if he had run away? But Andrew was less than convinced. There was no reason not to think that the Brotherhood was baiting them. 

It was chance that had them in Lexington as Neil arrived later that day, though since Andrew didn’t believe in chances it was another reason to be suspicious of the little runt who kept finding his way near them. Neil had changed his clothes the moment he ran into a trader, the same one they were supposed to establish a trade line with. He was in and out of the city just as quickly, heading east towards Concord. It was near Sanctuary that they had decided to confront him, after Kevin had made the continued point that letting him getting close to their allies was beneficial to no one but Riko. 

Andrew had called him a rabbit when they first met, but it didn't seem fitting now. He was a creature all his own; all fear and anxiety in all the wrong moments and all bark with equal bite at all the wrong times. He was fearless in his fear, reckless in his caution, stupid in his intelligence. But the worst part by far was his mouth. If it wasn't so purely entertaining, Andrew might have been annoyed. 

It didn't matter how intense Andrew’s gaze got as he leveled it on Neil, because he matched it. Still, Neil didn’t respond to his challenge to answer questions about himself, and Andrew was bored with baiting him if he wouldn’t react. He resolved to wait until he could issue a more critical strike and left Neil in the watch tower. He saluted him sarcastically as he slipped back down the ladder.

* * *

 

It wasn't until the next morning that he decided to up the ante on the Neil problem. After returning to the Hotel to deal with Kevin’s steady dissent into alcohol induced oblivion, he thought through the ways to fuck with Neil until he could pull the truth out of him. He took his chems in preparation for the day’s activities and headed out into Goodneighbor. Kevin followed behind him closely, the news from yesterday keeping him anxious and even more eager to be at Andrew’s side. 

The drugs were a mandate, in the loosest of terms. For the mercenary work he did, no one would bother if he wasn’t using chems; they thought he was too volatile to maintain a job. There were dozens of chems: Jet to speed up reaction time. Psycho for insane strength. Buffout . No one cared much what he was on, but they all felt better as they watched the drugs take over. Apparently, sober Andrew was unnerving to the people’s delicate sensibilities. Each job became a sentence to another dose. Residents of Goodneighbor expected that he upheld his dosage while in their walls. He tolerated it because it gave him, Nicky, and Aaron a place to be. And at the very least, gave him something to do. Besides the withdrawal was enough to knock him useless, and with his current promises, he couldn’t afford to deal with that. Hancock was alright with him off the drugs occasionally, as long as it wasn’t a regular thing.He was the only one who really could tell when Andrew was faking, having a longstanding addiction himself that he did absolutely nothing to curb. Ghouls never died, so there was never a concern of overdosing. Andrew thought of what a terrible existence that must be, to live 200 years and still have more to go. 

Neil was leaned against the wall of the Old State House, eating some of the radstag he had caught yesterday, feeding tiny pieces to the dog. Andrew felt another pinprick of irritation at the sight of it. It looked somehow that he had managed at least some sleep, begrudgingly at that. The circles around his eyes looking less like black eyes. Dogmeat barked as Andrew drew closer, alerting his owner to Andrew’s presence. 

“You,” Andrew said. Neil looked to him without a second wasted. “We’re going on a supply raid. You’re joining us.” 

“Am I now? You know, you’ll get further if you ask instead of demand.” 

“I don’t ask,” Andrew said. 

Neil made a face that signaled he was less than impressed. 

“Leave the gun.”

Neil smirk appeared on his face once again. “Scared I’ll shoot you?” 

He was growing cocky and Andrew didn’t care for it. 

“Leave your dog, too,” he said in response. 

Neil smirk fell slightly, replaced by surprise that transformed to resolve. 

“No way,” he said. “He belongs to the Minutemen. I’m responsible for his well-being.” 

“Thought he was yours,” Andrew said. He tapped a finger to his chin, as if trying to remember. “Been together since day one, yeah? When exactly was day one, again?” 

“I’m not leaving him,” Neil said, but Andrew didn’t miss the way he hesitated. Evasion tactics as usual. 

“Leave him with Wymack if you’re worried. Pretty sure he’s in need of something new to take care of.” 

“No,” Neil said, a drop of hysteria seeping into his words. “He comes with me.” 

Andrew was growing bored. He had his knife raised and slipped under the armor hugging Neil’s chest in a second. There was a decisive slice that sounded in the air at the slash he made to the fabric at Neil’s abdomen. He pressed the tip of the blade to Neil’s flesh. A warning, a promise. 

“You don’t seem to understand how this works,” Andrew said into his ear.

Neil's smirk was savage. "You think you're the first person to slide a knife across my chest?” He barked out a laugh. "You couldn't begin to know the ways I've had to bleed." 

Andrew was waiting for the movement, for a push to get him off or a hand around his wrist, and was surprised to find it didn't come. Neil stood unflinching under the blade. If anything, he pressed himself deeper into it. 

"You're not as scary as you think you are,” Neil said. His voice was low, and Andrew could see it clear in his eyes: Andrew didn’t scare him in the slightest. It was an odd sensation, one that was as unfamiliar as it was unsettling. Andrew refused to resort to threats, but he was cornered and he didn't like it. Instead he settled for being amused, and let out a laugh before removing the knife and resheathing it. 

“What an enigma you are, Neil Josten.” Andrew didn't spare another a word until he had already turned his back on Neil. "Stay here then," he decided. "Keep your dog company." 

"You won't get any better staying behind these walls," Kevin said to Neil, clearly frustrated with his behavior. “How do you honestly expect to learn anything if you continue on like this?” 

Andrew continued walking away, even as he heard the hesitation in Neil's response to Kevin. He knew what Neil wanted, could see him tensed like a coil at the promise of a fight, at the promise of what Kevin could offer him. But Andrew needed more information before he figured out what to do. If he was a spy—for the Brotherhood or the Institute or anyone else for that matter—it would pay to bait him. Killing him before he got answers might be satisfying, but only vaguely. And, it would make it harder to keep his promises. 

Andrew rolled his shoulders, twitched his fingers at his side, desperate for movement, for action. He was out the doors of the gate without hesitation and swirling a bat he’d grabbed from the supply shed next to the watch tower, searching for something to hit. It wasn’t rage he felt, the drugs really wouldn’t allow for that intense of an emotion, but it was annoyance and restlessness. There was bound to be something for Andrew to take that out on. It was the Commonwealth after all. Something was always waiting around the corner to kill you. 

It came out from Andrew’s left, a tire iron swinging for his face. He swerved and leaped out of the way, swiping a leg out towards the ankles of his attacker. A raider. Andrew appraised the man, taking a moment to examine the attacker where he'd fallen. He raised his bat and cracked it across a knee cap. Even through the thick leather of knee pads he heard a distinct crunch. The sound of it sent something humming through his bones—not life, but a proxy of it. He brought another swing down onto the raider's chest, felt bones give under the pressure. The raider struggled for breath, panic setting his eyes wide and wild. One, two, three hards kicks to the head and he had a broken neck. The last bit of the man’s life sputtered out under the tip of Andrew’s boot.

Raiders didn't travel alone, but Andrew was counting on it. He stood above the body, waiting for the next one to make his move, eyes scanning the street slowly. He threw a glimpse back towards the settlement—Kevin, Nicky, and Neil were watching from the guard tower. He resettled his gaze down the street, giddy with the anticipation of the next attack. 

It came in the form of a bullet to the back of his thigh, hot and piercing. It should have been enough to knock him off balance, but Andrew was running on adrenaline, amphetamines and apathy, and all he could do was let out a breathy laugh. Another bullet knocked the corner of his chest armor, a decisive _tink_ sounding through the air as metal deflected the bullet. 

Andrew was rolling out of the way of another shot with a pistol in his hands in the next second. He didn’tget much enjoyment out of utilizing a gun. It failed to provide the same satisfaction as blunt force. But he fired a shot off in the general direction of his attacker and they were ducking behind the wall in an attempt to shield themselves. Andrew shot wildly, with the intention of keeping them in place as he drew closer. As he reached the corner of the wall he reached out for the Raider, grasping her wrist and slamming his gun until bones crunched and her gun fell. She let out a sharp scream at the pain that Andrew cut off with hands around her throat. She struggled, limbs twitching about for something to hold on to, kicking and swinging at him, clutching at his wrists and then at his belt in search of a weapon. He threw her back into the wall, forcing her head hard against the brick, and pinned her down. Her eyes bulged, and as she stared desperately into Andrew’s eyes he wished she would look away. He slammed her head against the wall again, and even after it was clear she was dead, once more for good measure. As her body dropped, he examined the small splotch of blood and pressed his fingertips to the surface of the brick, 

There was movement further down the street—someone retreating. Andrew was after them without a second thought, picking up his bat where it had settled near the body of the first raider as he followed. It was brought clean against the raider’s back. He started to trip, fingertips skittering across the pavement as he struggled to maintain their balance, but kept moving forward. Andrew wrenched him upright by his armor and turned him around before landing a clear punch to the nose. There was a shout of pain, and a splash of blood, before Andrew was wrestling the man to the ground, knees pinning shoulders down to pavement. Andrew kept swinging, his fist on fire against the delicate bones of the man’s face. Andrew didn’t know how many punches it took for his fist to come back stained red with thick blood, or how long after the man had died that blood flew up on onto his face, into his eyes. He continued punching a few times after that, until the punches became so slick they hardly felt satisfying anymore. There was nothing left to crunch, and no more enjoyment to be had. 

He let out a long sigh, still straddling the man, and dipped his head back to look up at the sky. He was losing blood and knew he had to make it back to the gate, but didn’t have the desire to do anything but sit. Savoring the feeling of stillness that hardly ever came when he was on the chems. A cigarette was wrenched from the carton in his pocket with enough force to snap the thing. Andrew pulled the smoke in with a deep breath once it was lit. He closed his eyes, hoping not to see the flashes of his life he always tried to forget. It was only black for a second, and then visions of past injustices rose to the surface all at once. Andrew let out another sigh and stood up. 

He walked back, moving slower than he cared to show, and saw Kevin scrambling down from the watchtower to meet him at the gate. Neil was slower, more cautious in his steps, as he followed Kevin.

“Hell, Andrew,” Nicky muttered upon seeing him. Andrew didn’t miss the way his cousin leaned away from him slightly. “Are you okay?”

Andrew flicked his cigarette aside. “You did see the other guys, right?” 

“Yeah,” Nicky swallowed. He made a small attempt to lighten the mood. “Is it too much to ask I go out with a single bullet wound?” 

“In the Commonwealth, yes,” Kevin said harshly. He turned his attention on Andrew. “That was reckless.” 

Andrew leveled a bored look at him and didn’t bother wasting his breath on a response. 

Neil looked almost guilty as Andrew turned his gaze on him. "Kevin wouldn't let me shoot," he attempted to explain. 

“Good. Word is you’re a terrible shot," Andrew replied. 

"They shot you." 

"Yes, Neil. I was there." He didn't like it, the sound of confusion that colored Neil's words. It didn't make sense. Andrew knew he couldn't be that good of a liar, but it just didn't make sense that the emotions he was displaying were genuine. "It's nothing Abbie, booze, and a stimpak can't fix." 

Andrew decided he liked watching Neil grow uncomfortable under his gaze. He had his eyebrows furrowed, like he couldn’t understand how he had gotten to this point—standing in front of Andrew commenting on his gunshot wound. But there was something else in Neil’s eyes—respect, maybe? How strange.

Andrew had planned to extend the invitation after they had returned from the supply run, but given Neil’s stubbornness surrounding his mutt and Andrew’s gunshot wound such an opportunity seemed unlikely now. 

“It’s time we put Neil in the crosshairs a bit. Don’t you think, Kevin?” Andrew said. 

Whatever anger Kevin felt towards Andrew dissipated immediately as he said those words. He was eager, ready for the opportunity to finally work on Neil’s skills. 

Neil didn’t respond one way or another—didn’t let any emotion show in his features. Whether he was confused, or nervous, or wary was entirely unseen. His face was blank. 

“Just like that?” Nicky asked, confused. He spared a glance at Neil. 

“Oh, he’ll spend a night out with us first.” It wasn’t a suggestion, and Andrew knew Neil understood. “Some group bonding before we link arms and join the battle.” 

“Seriously,” Nicky said with a smile. It came out as a question, but he didn’t bother waiting for Andrew to answer. His attention was turned to Neil, giddy with anticipation. “We’ll have to keep working together anyway. Why not have some fun while we do it?” 

“I don’t drink and I don’t dance.” The message behind his words was clear: I don’t do out of control. 

“No matter,” Nicky said waving his words away. “We’ll just talk and get to know each other.”

Andrew didn’t like the look that settled into Neil’s eyes, like he knew he had to concede but was fighting it. It was looks like that that got him into the hot water he was already in. 

He left Nicky to keep chatting away at Neil, his leg hurting more than he cared to admit as he headed towards Abbie. Andrew would get his answers. He was sure of it. There wasn’t any more energy to waste on Neil Josten. Neil—who had already somehow crawled his way into Andrew’s mind. Neil—who was a twitch away from being completely unhinged. Neil—with his smart mouth and stupid face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, no preview for the next chapter. Because it is basically this world's version of Columbia, and I don't want to give any of Neil's half-truth without the context of the rest of the chapter. But knowing that it's Columbia is basically a preview in its self, no? Anyway, we are back to Neil's POV, which is good. He's had a lot to consider following Andrew's little performance. 
> 
> Also: The Jean thing...I swear we will get Neil's take on this --to be clear he didn't know they say him then--but Andrew will be using it in the next chapter as a way to throw Neil's story under scrutiny. So, what actually happened with Jean will be more apparent. Just planting seeds in this chapter :) 
> 
> The story will be moving pretty steadily after this next chapter--i.e Riko moving up from DC, Renee coming back with the information from the courser chip, and Neil learning more about the whereabouts of a certain Wesninski. 
> 
> As usual, hit up the comments with any clarifying questions!


	8. Boston After Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Neil enters the Combat Zone--or: The Commonwealth's Columbia.

Neil stared down at the bundle of clothing and armor in his hands, his features pulled tight with confusion and apprehension. 

“Why?” he asked. It was all he could do not to choke on the word. 

Nicky beamed at him. “We’re sick of seeing you in those ridiculous clothes.” 

Neil pulled at the seams of his beige camouflage cargo pants. 

“Is there something wrong with these?” 

“Please don’t ever ask me something so depressing again. It may be a wasteland, but that’s no reason not to look stylish.”

“Isn’t that exactly the reason not to care?” Neil muttered. Nicky continued talking right over him, refusing to hear such ridiculous words. 

“Everyone’s got a look,” Nicky announced. “Brotherhood’s got that whole army vibe, Railroad’s got the badass thing. Even the Minutemen, granted they parade around in old militia uniforms.” He tapped a finger against his chin. “Maybe they should rethink that. You clothes are as boring as they are ratty,” Nicky decided. “Come on, picked them out myself. Had to pry them from Kleo’s greedy metal hands as soon as they arrived. Just for tonight? Andrew said you need new armor anyway. He’s the one who told me to go shopping.” 

“Andrew?” Neil asked, sliding his gaze up from the dark fabrics to examine Nicky’s face. “Why?” 

“Because even he is annoyed by your clothes,” Nicky said, throwing his arms up. “Just do me a favor and put them on. And take a nap before we leave tonight. You look like shit.” 

“Uh, alright,” Neil said numbly. Why would Andrew insist he have new clothing? 

“Be down in the lobby at 9.” Nicky said before Neil closed the door on him. 

Neil threw the clothes down on the bed, not wanting to deal with changing or considering what was the only gift he’d ever received before. Neil fell down onto the bed beside them, and Dogmeat followed up, pressing his body against Neil’s side as he pulled the handgun he’d found with Dogmeat from his pocket and examining it. 

He turned the revolver over in his hands, inspecting it carefully. It was nothing special, a standard single action .45 handgun. The barrel was barely 2 inches, which made it easy for Neil to tuck into the pocket of his pants. Neil switched the gun from one hand to the other, feeling in it a dozen emotions —pain, fear, familiarity, discomfort. Holding a gun, he also felt the monotony of pain in his bones—felt the stiff shoulders of long car rides, the tension of gritted teeth, palms ripped open by concrete and knives, the sharp stings of back-handed slaps as they kissed flesh in response to another mistake. Neil felt his mother. If he closed his eyes, he could see her cleaning the pistol she’d carried with her.

“It won’t be worth a damn if it jams up when you try to use it,” she’d told him after making him repeat the process of disassembling, cleaning, and reassembling the gun over and over again. It took longer than his mother liked for him to learn—hours of too many springs launched across the room, forgetting lubrication, and harsh urgent whispers to remember the process. And then it had clicked. He was able take apart a 9mm semi auto pistol like it was nothing, could pull a trigger when the barrel was pressed firmly against flesh without a second of hesitation. But now, thinking back on his performance in front of Kevin and Andrew, he wasn’t so sure. 

He rubbed at his shoulder, still sore from the kickback of the rifle he’d fired yesterday, and considered his own shortcomings. After all it was true, what Kevin had said to him when they’d cleared out the ghouls. He hadn’t thought to pull the trigger when confronted with Andrew and Kevin the first time. And when he’d finally tried to go after Kevin, he’d chosen a pipe not a gun to get the job done.When he was on the road with his mother, a mistake like that would have cost him a hard smack to the back of the head and a harsh warning to never hesitate. Was he so helpless, so thoughtless and so careless, without his mother at his side? He fell asleep thinking of his mother’s directions regarding proper gun care and use, hearing her words, her warnings.

A sharp knock jolted Neil from his nap and had him gasping for breath, revolver raised towards the door, before he remembered where he was. Dogmeat jumped down from where he was curled against Neil and started pacing at the door. Neil let out a shaky breath, shaking the last of his memories as he lowered the revolver. He tucked it under his pillow before opening the door.

“You’re not even dressed,” Nicky exclaimed. “It’s nearly time to go. You better hurry up and meet us downstairs.” He turned and went down the hall, leaving Neil to hurriedly change into his new clothing and armor.

Certain habits were hard to shake, even if they didn't make sense anymore. Neil still couldn't stomach the thought of not wearing his contacts. And as he stared down at the way his new clothing clung a little too tightly to his body, Neil couldn't help but feel that he needed to hide his scars. There were a plenty of creatures that could have given them to him—a hundred reasons for each slash to his skin. And yet, he still couldn't bear the thought of it. Of someone seeing. Of someone bearing witness to something he'd rather just forget. The scars were reminder enough of a pain he couldn't describe—of emptiness, worthlessness, fear—but someone seeing them? The thought of it made them seem more real that way, somehow. 

Neil pushed the thoughts aside, reminding himself that even if anyone could see anything beneath the armor and cloth, that he could offer a thousand explanations that would pass in this world. He'd never had that before—a reason people would accept for the map of pain across his body. It was as disorienting as it was freeing, a reminder of how unprepared he was to exist in this world. He looked hastily around the room, hesitating before tucking the pistol into the waistband of his pants. He pulled on the new pieces of armor, lighter but sturdier than what he had been sporting before, and was equally surprised to find that Andrew had replaced the helmet he’d stolen. Everything was black, which wasn’t particularly well-suited for blending in or for not dying of heat exhaustion, but for now Neil supposed it was fine. 

As he headed downstairs with Dogmeat, he spotted Andrew leaned across the front desk, speaking in hushed tones to the woman who ran the place. He shook a bag of bottle caps at her impatiently and she snapped off a comment about being rude as she pulled out a small bag of her own and set it on the counter in front of him. 

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Andrew said with a wide smile as he pocketed the bag of drugs and set the bottle caps across the threshold. 

He signaled to the others that he was ready and they left the hotel and the settlement without another word. The walk was silent at first, and almost comfortable, with Dogmeat at Neil’s side and the steady footsteps of the men around him. 

It became too much for Nicky after they passed Park Street station. 

“We’ve been coming here for years,” Nicky announced. “Ever since Andrew found us.”

Neil slid a glance over to Andrew as Nicky continued speaking, wondering what Nicky had meant by that. 

“I grew up just a few streets over at the Esplanade. Aaron and his mom joined the settlement in the old Charles View Amphitheater and then Andrew followed. We might not have stayed with my parents for that long, but we still like to come back to the area for the nightlife.” 

“If you can even call it that,” Aaron said. 

“It’s the best we’ve got to offer,” Nicky said with a laugh. “Besides, I doubt Neil has high standards.” 

“Below sea level,” Neil said in response. 

Nicky laughed heartily and slapped a hand against Neil’s shoulder. “He makes a joke. Look at him go.”

“Shut up,” Kevin hissed. “You’re cackling will attract every creature in a five mile radius.” 

Nicky muttered a comment under his breath, but obliged until they got to their destination. 

An old theater, with old fashioned lightbulbs lit around the sign, stood tucked behind and between two taller crumbling buildings. The words COMBAT ZONE were painted thick in red letters across the sign. 

"The biggest, most badass club in the Commonwealth," Nicky announced. 

Club isn't the word Neil would have used to describe the former music hall turned fighting den. There were two bars where the concession stands used to be and a large metal fighting cage towards the back of the room on what was once a stage. The floor was littered with scraps of paper, broken bottles, other pieces of garbage, and stained with blood. Dozens of people floated throughout the room, placing bets with jockeys and running to grab more drinks. Despite the entertainment of a fight right in front of them, pre-war music flooded through speakers in small pockets of the place. Some people were even dancing. 

"Used to be a bigger crowd,” Nicky explained. "But raiders took it over a year ago. Gutted it and set up shop to trick drifters into coming in order to kill them. People steered clear after that. But about two months ago Hancock sent some people in, cleared it all out and got it reestablished. Said people deserved some entertainment every once in a while. Doesn't hurt that he profits off the place." 

Neil nodded numbly. It hadn't occurred to him that this many people could be packed into one building in this world. He felt like crawling out of his skin as hot bodies pressed against and past him. 

Nicky led them in search of a table, squeezing past people until they found a table right in front of the cage, off to the far right side. It was across the room from the bar, but it was a darker and quieter corner of the room. Neil was unsure if that was a good or a bad thing. 

"You’re doing it again," Andrew muttered in Neil’s ear. He was close behind him. Neil could almost feel him pressed against his back. 

"What?" Neil asked. 

"Looking like a rabbit." 

Neil didn’t respond, just sped up to disentangle himself from the crowd. Kevin and Aaron were already sitting, eyes turned towards the fight. 

“Bar,” Andrew said as Neil stood awkwardly, suddenly unsure of what he was thinking in accepting this invitation.

Neil followed, not trusting Andrew, but unable to retreat as Andrew tugged him forward by his shirt collar. 

The bartender that greeted them was all smiles as he saw Andrew. 

“Well, I hardly believe my eyes. Good to see you, Andrew. Who’s this with you?” 

Andrew didn’t bother to answer the man’s question. “You know the order, Roland.” 

Roland smiled, apparently well versed in Andrew’s impatience. He slid his gaze to Neil. “You?” 

“I don’t drink,” Neil said cooly. 

“Nuka-cola, then,” Roland said, setting an opened glass bottle of soda on the tray after the many shots of liquor. “We keep the caps here. Doesn’t make sense to give one away and cut into our profits.” 

In lieu of money, bottle caps were the currency of the Commonwealth, so Neil didn’t think anything of it. He just nodded as he scanned the rest of the room searching for signs of trouble. 

Andrew brought the drinks over to the table and Neil watched as the group took shot after shot. They were on their fourth when Andrew pulled out the bag he’d bought at the Rexford. It was filled with a variety of different colored pills. 

“Want any?” Andrew asked, teeth bared, challenge in his eyes. 

“I’m not an idiot,” Neil said, turning his face away slightly. 

“You are,” Andrew corrected. “But I don't know what that has to do with the chems.” 

Neil didn’t respond, and Andrew seemed not to care, passing the bag around so everyone else could fish out what they wanted. 

Kevin swallowed his pills with another shot, but Aaron didn't bother to wait that long apparently, swallowing them dry the moment he pulled them from the bag. 

“Another round,” Nicky announced as he drank the final shot. 

Andrew beckoned Neil to follow him again, but didn’t speak as they waited on a new tray of drinks from Roland. When they returned to the table, the effects of the drugs were clear on the other boys’ faces. They greedily sucked down their shots the moment the tray was placed on the table. 

Neil reached out for his drink, stopping as Dogmeat let out a low whine next to him, eyes fixed to the bottle. He nudged Neil’s leg. Neil looked from his dog to his drink and back to the dog before setting the soda down on the table untouched. 

He didn’t dare look to Andrew, or draw any attention to himself unnecessarily, but his hand twitched towards his hip were his gun was. 

“Get lost,” Andrew said suddenly to the others. Nicky was up and corralling the others closer to the cage without waiting for a second warning. 

“Very tricky of you,” Andrew said into Neil’s ear. “Bringing a gun with you.” 

Neil didn’t bother denying it. What would be the point? 

“Very tricky of you,” Neil countered. “Trying to drug me.” 

Andrew didn’t react—just kept his smile fixed on his face. Neil wondered if it would ever be possible to break that facade. And then wondered if it even was a facade at all. Neil noticed the way everyone acted around Andrew. Cautious in a way Neil was used to being. They looked like in a single second he would turn on them. It was a feeling Neil was used to having, but he wondered why people reserved it for Andrew. He was hard, there was a fierce firmness to Andrew, but for all the fear of his supposed psychosis, Neil couldn’t help but doubt everyone else’s perceptions of the boy. Maybe that made him stupid, especially after what he had seen last night. 

“Oh, Neil. I forget how interesting you can be sometimes,” Andrew said finally. 

“Will you fight?” Neil asked, eyes trained on the fight in front of them. 

“Thinking back to my last performance, huh?” Andrew asked, his smile splitting wider across his face. 

“It would be entertaining.” 

“Why, Neil. You are a violent boy.” 

“You don’t know the half of it,” Neil said, a bitter smirk on his face. 

“That’s exactly what we are here to figure out,” Andrew said. “That other half of you.” 

Neil looked down at his hands, suddenly desperate for a weapon. He recognized the way Andrew was backing him into a corner. He went on the defensive, despite knowing he shouldn’t bait Andrew further. His mother’s voice echoed through his mind: _Keep your head down or you’ll kill us both._

“You think you can get me to talk?” 

Andrew reached out for Neil’s hand with a speed that startled him. Neil tried to draw back, tried to react, but Andrew dug a finger into his healing ribs, forcing him to double forward with paralyzing pain. Andrew grabbed hold of Neil’s left wrist and squeezed with an intensity Neil hadn’t expected, slamming his palm flat on the table. It happened so quickly, Dogmeat scrambled to stand to attention at the sudden commotion. 

Andrew dug a syringe out of his pocket with his free hand, and Neil started to scramble, kicking out at the table, as Andrew drew the needle closer to Neil’s hand. Dogmeat clamped his jaw onto Andrew’s forearm, teeth slipping against the metal of his armor, as he tried to loosen Andrew’s grip on Neil. He started barking, desperately, growling and throwing his body weight against Andrew’s legs. 

Neil was about to scream, for attention, for a chance to break free, for anything, when Andrew pushed the needle into his own arm and squeezed the liquid from the syringe into his own veins. 

Neil’s mouth fell open, startled silent, barely breathing. Dogmeat stilled also, backing up from Andrew with his body low to the ground and ears folded against his head. He let out a low, panicked groan and shifted his attention between Neil and Andrew with expectant eyes. Neil watched as Andrew’s pupils dilated twice their size, swallowing up all the cold hazel. 

“W-what?” Neil spluttered, his voice caught in his too dry throat. His tongue was heavy, swollen with fear and surprise. 

Andrew pulled the empty syringe from his arm and set it down on the table in front of them. A small chill ran through him, shaking his shoulders and twitching his fingers where they held tight around Neil’s wrist. Neil thought he could feel Andrew’s pulse quicken in his fingertips. 

"Interesting combination of drugs this is," Andrew said a little absentmindedly. He stared down at the edge of the table for a moment before turning his attention back to Neil’s face. “Apparently raises ones charisma.Makes it easier to get answers from others. Never had much use for it honestly, but Hancock swears by the stuff." 

Dogmeat let out another low groan, nudging at Neil’s legs. 

“Shut your mutt up, before I do it,” Andrew said, his voice even and low. 

"Because you aren't charming enough," Neil spat out sarcastically as he reached an arm around to pet Dogmeat behind the ears. “Good boy. Stand down,” he said quietly, scratching at his fur until Dogmeat settled down next to him. 

Neil turned his attention back on Andrew. He still had his hand splayed out on the table, holding it in place with pressure at Neil's wrist. 

"There are a dozen chems out there that could get you talking in a heart beat," Andrew said. His voice was even, stating a fact. His eyes bore holes through Neil’s. “I have three on me right now that could pierce through your skin and have you blubbering your life story in a second. You didn’t take the drink. That’s only a minor set-back.” 

“I know you are suspicious of me already. Instead of drugging me, just ask me what you want to know.” 

“You know, I recognize it. Recognize _you._ Renee does, too. She could have spotted it a mile away and she only met you for a moment. You’re something familiar to us. A little too unstable. A little too defiant. There are cracks in your veneer, Neil Josten. I can’t wait to break it apart and see what’s underneath.” 

“Try it,” Neil dared. Andrew clenched harder at his wrist, twisting his hand so Neil could feel the hot tension all the way up his shoulder.

“You are in very dangerous territory to be making such threats.” 

“Not a threat," Neil ground out. "Why can’t you leave me alone, anyway? Kevin asked me to stay, not you. I don’t owe you anything.” 

“That’s where you’re wrong. You owe me every explanation. You, the worst liar I’ve seen across the Commonwealth, who can’t help but stare a little too long and a little too hard at Kevin Day. You show up, and now the Brotherhood is moving its base from the Capitol Wasteland. You’re here, with your loud mouth and your threats, and there’s nothing about you that screams impressive, but you’ve caught his eye despite your shitty aim and your lack of enthusiasm. Here to fight a crusade against the Brotherhood at just the moment Kevin is desperate. I don’t buy it.” 

“You think I’m working for them? What a spy?” Neil was incredulous, he felt his voice crack unnaturally. “I already told you,” Neil said through gritted teeth. “Just ask me. I know I can’t outrun you. I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

“No bullshit,” Andrew said after a moment, his voice steady and his gaze heavy. “No evasive answers. Just the truth, if that’s even a possibility with you.” 

“I won’t tell you everything,” Neil said. “And I won’t do it here.” He looked around at all the people surrounding them. No one was paying them any attention, and the other men were no where to be seen. 

“Then the dog stays here.” 

Neil slid his focus down to Dogmeat, who met his gaze with expectant eyes. It tugged at him not to have the dog at his side. If he’d learned anything in the Commonwealth it was that he was no good at looking out for himself without his mother at his side. Dogmeat grounded him somehow, in a way that was disorienting for Neil to think about. 

“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. 

Andrew withdrew his grip and stood up, starting back towards the bar. 

“Stay,” Neil said sternly to Dogmeat. He stayed where he was, but sat up and scanned the room, intent to play guard while Neil walked away. 

Andrew led them around the curve of the bar and towards the far right wall of the building, passing the cage as they traveled down the length of it. They passed through another doorway, a bouncer nodding at Andrew as he started down a set of stairs. The basement wasn’t much. A partially dismantled vanity sat against the crumbly brick wall, with two armchairs placed outside two lifts that raised platforms above their heads. Neil supposed they went up into the cage, given the dull sound of punches and cheers he could hear from directly above them. 

It was a story Neil had been piecing together slowly over the last day. He had seen enough of Andrew’s suspicious eyes to know that he wouldn’t buy something without at least some truth blended in. He was confident in what he’d pieced together. He’d made up his mind about leaving out some of the more complex details—the cryo pods and the time difference, the truth about what his father was— but he refused to see any reason not to give Andrew as much truth as he could bear. It would be painful, uncomfortable. But the bottom line was Neil needed to get to Kellogg and if Kevin was the only way to do it, he needed Andrew to let him stick around long enough to get his answers. 

Andrew turned towards him, flicking his fingers out impatiently as he waited for Neil to begin. 

“I haven’t been in the Commonwealth for long. Barely two weeks,” he started. “I came here from Baltimore.” The word was poison on his tongue, hot, slippery, and metallic. It was the taste of a gun shoved down his throat. A gun he was willingly shoving down himself. He felt the need to flinch--heard the harsh reprimand from his mother in his head. Neil knew it didn’t hurt anything to give away this truth, even with his violent reaction to putting it out there. Baltimore now couldn’t have meant anything. Even if his father was running things there, communication was so disconnected he doubt anyone in the Commonwealth knew or care what the rest of the country was up to. Still, Neil didn’t dare look at Andrew. 

“My parents are dead. I was young, ten at the time. Whoever was after them tried to kill me too, but I ran.” Neil figured given how unimportant pre-war money was in this world—along with passports and other forms of legitimate identification—that it didn’t matter that he had bank accounts and a million dollars at his disposal, with enough mob contacts from his mother’s family to keep himself afloat. So he kept it out of his story. Neil had ditched the binder as soon as Dan had explained everything to him after meting the Minutemen. Sent it all up in flames to remove any trace of evidence, so there was no fear his lies would come back for him in that regard. “I’ve been working my way up the coast since then, different places in Pennsylvania, New York, Connecticut, before landing in Boston.” 

“This doesn’t explain the vault,” Andrew said, a bit impatiently. 

“I broke in when I first came here. I didn’t know anything about the Commonwealth. Where to go, who to trust. The vault was the first place I’d stumbled upon, and it looked secure. I waited around a few days to see if anyone came in or out, and when they didn’t I broke in. I figured it was a secure place to stay until I figured things out. And I was right, mostly. No one was there. It was abandoned.” 

“So, Kellogg?” 

“He found me in the vault. I just barely escaped. But he dropped the courser chip, and I figured maybe I could find out who he was, see if he had anything to do with my parents. I’ve survived this long on small details like that. I had to know. And then I searched his house with Wymack and he _did_ know me, had been keeping tabs on me since I’d arrived and had been reporting the information back to someone. I don’t know who or why.” Another piece of brutal honesty. It sent a shudder through Neil that he tried his best to shake off. 

Neil looked at Andrew, at his wide pupils, the hard line his mouth made, and wondered if what he’d said was true—if those drugs were making him talk more than Neil had meant to. 

“None of this explains Kevin. You aren’t with the Brotherhood, if I take your word for it. Which, so far I’m not. What’s the deal with Kevin, and why did you stay?” 

“I’ve never,” Neil hesitated, wondering how best to approach this. Neil doubted he could appeal to sympathy with someone like Andrew. He figured desperation wouldn’t be pleasant, but at least it might be believable. And besides it wasn’t really a lie, what he was saying to Andrew. “I’ve never had a place. I’ve never had something to live for. It was always another day of running, another chance at a breath. Kevin said I had potential, _wanted_ me here. I don’t expect you to understand-” he broke off. 

“You’re right, I don’t understand,” Andrew said. 

“He offered me something I’m not in a position to turn down,” Neil said, the words fierce as anger rose in his chest. “I’m nothing, don’t you get that? But then he shows up, tells me I can be something. I don’t believe it. Couldn't ever believe it, even if I want to. But I don’t have anything better to do while I search for Kellogg, and it doesn’t hurt, having a place to stay.” 

“So you don’t know who is after you,” Andrew said. He sounded unconvinced, but Neil waited for the rest of his question. “Do you know why?” 

“My father.” It was the truest thing he’d ever uttered, and his body went cold as soon as the words were out in the open. He swallowed—once, twice—praying that his throat wouldn’t close up on him. An allergic reaction to such truth being uttered. “My father was involved with some unsavory people.” The biggest understatement of the last two centuries, Neil was sure. “But he was stupid. Knew more than he should have. It didn’t work out well for him. That’s why they killed him and my mother. I got away before they could finish off the job. I’m a loose end.” 

“Try again,” Andrew said. His calmness was the most frightening thing. It shook Neil at his core. “If all of this is true, then what’s the deal with you and Brotherhood? What’s the deal with you and Jean Moreau?”

_Jean Moreau._ Neil felt his stomach flop to his feet. He hadn’t expected names—hadn’t expected _people—_ to follow him in this world like they had in his last. Recognition of another person had been as good as being found out when he was running with his mother. But here, where it was more unexpected, where there shouldn’t have been any trail Neil was leaving at all, it was heart-stopping. To hear those words from Andrew, who clearly had the upper hand in this conversation despite whatever illusion Neil had been under, was enough to nearly send the world tipping. Blood drained from his face and gathered in his feet, making them heavy despite every cell in his body that screamed _run._

It hadn’t been anything, running into Jean. Not really. Except that he had recognized the vault suit, and started accusing Neil of all kinds of things, demanding to know who he was, snapping at every lie Neil told. 

“Don’t lie, everyone in that vault has been cryoed. So, you must have been too. You’re from before the war, aren’t you? No one here has been able to get in to that vault. Which means you must have found a way _out._ ” 

Neil defected every lie, but Jean was right there, with another fact, another piece of data, another piece of intel to throw at him. 

“The Brotherhood has been monitoring every inch of the Commonwealth. Especially the vaults. You as good as belong to us.” 

He’d tried to capture Neil, talking about how he needed to take him back to headquarters. It turned violent when Neil refused, but Jean was basically twice the size of Neil, especially in power armor. It hadn’t taken long for Neil to retreat. 

Neil wasn’t sure how much Andrew had overheard, but at the very least Andrew had missed enough that he didn't have a knife pressed to Neil’s throat to accuse him of lying. 

“The people my parents worked with,” Neil said, thankful to have been paying close attention when Wymack had shared the news about the Brotherhood. “I’m not sure, I was too young, I didn’t know enough, but I’m pretty sure it was the Brotherhood. Their main base is in the Capitol Wasteland. I’m—“ Neil shook his head, praying that the motion would compound with his lie to make it more believable, even as he lost his voice. “I’m pretty sure that they are the ones that have been tracking me. It’s why…it’s why I was so frozen when you and Kevin jumped me. Kevin was in his power armor and I just _remembered_ them. When I ran into Jean--at first, I was shocked. I hadn’t expected to see someone in power armor. I freaked out. I mouthed off and things turned ugly quick.” 

Neil looked up cautiously from under his bangs to see how Andrew was processing yet _another_ lie. He was surprised to find Andrew staring intently at him. Andrew tookfew steps forward, staring Neil down just inches away from his face. It was hard to read, the look he was giving. It wasn’t pity, or even apprehension, it was something fiercer somehow, something unmovable and unknowable. 

“I just want to stay until I figure out everything with Kellogg,” Neil said quietly after the silence was too much for him. “I’ve been here too long as it is. I don’t know who I’m running from, but I know staying is suicide. I just want to figure out everything with Kellogg so that I can leave without a trace.” 

Andrew’s expression turned back to stony indifference, and he took a few steps back and shrugged his shoulder. 

“Something will kill you sooner or later. Kellogg, ghouls, raiders.” 

“Will you tell anyone?” Neil asked quietly. 

“Don’t ask me stupid questions.” 

Andrew left Neil in the basement, heading up the steps without another word or a glance backwards. Neil fell to his knees, face falling into his palms as rocky breaths shuttered through him. Relief flooded through his veins, coursed through his limbs. Whatever test Andrew had created, Neil had passed. What he’d given had been ridiculous, had a thousand holes if anyone bothered to push. But he had permission. Permission to stay, to look for Kellogg, to fight with Kevin on whatever crusade he decided he wanted Neil a part of. He felt it again, the smallest bee sting in his heart. Hope. Just out of reach, but not out of sight. Neil forced himself to take several steady breaths, counted to ten in french, and brought himself back up. Feeling his feet move beneath him was the most soothing thing he could have felt in the moment. As long as he was moving, he was safe. Even if it was towards a destination he already knew. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the game, the drug that Andrew takes that raises charisma, is an actual thing. Since I’m playing with a fictional world of post-apoclapytic nuclear fallout, I figured why the hell not? 
> 
> While we are talking Fallout 4 canon real quick: the combat zone is an actual shithole when you enter it in game. Like you basically have to kill all of the raiders and its a giant mess. There is no Cait in this story (sad) but it is clearly a happening place to be. Partly this change is for plot convenience (the original version of this chapter took place in a bar in Diamond City which just felt sort of weird as I started editing it) but also because I recently found a mod for the game that includes cut content where Combat Zone is actually a hella cool place to be. This version here is based on that cut content. Also, fun Boston fact (if anyone cares): the combat zone used to be the name for Boston’s red light district in the late 60s. Once I learned that, I was convinced this was this world’s Columbia and changed the whole chapter to accommodate it. 
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


	9. Getting A Clue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Renee returns with information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, commenting, and offering your kudos! Y'all rock.

Andrew knew he couldn’t believe everything Neil had told him—or take any of it for granted as being anywhere close to the truth. But at least now it was clear he wasn’t here on behalf of the Brotherhood, and he wasn’t a threat to Kevin. Not directly, anyway. What happened as a result of his fat mouth might prove otherwise. But regardless, Neil was no longer Andrew’s concern. His lies were his problem now, and in the days that followed Andrew was content to ignore him from the sidelines.

Whatever desperation he’d shown Andrew in the basement of the Combat Zone had disappeared, replaced instead with a fierce commitment to improving his fighting skills and technical knowledge. He worked with Kevin nearly nonstop, mapping out settlements, detailing raiding trips, plotting points where enemies might be housing their operations. He practiced his fighting technique—both hand to hand and with melee weapons. He worked with every gun Goodneighbor had at its disposal—adjusting to the kickback unique to each weapon, finding the distinct area of aim to increase his accuracy, testing out how far his range could be. He was a quick study, and although Andrew has mostly been trying to bait him when he’d commented on his shitty aim, Andrew could admit that he was better with guns than either he or Kevin had initially given him credit for. Kevin seemed to realize this, too. Although, he’d sooner turn a gun on himself than admit he was wrong. Neil’s progress was rapid and, at least from Kevin’s view, expected.

It became apparent as he mapped out the Commonwealth with Kevin that he hadn't been lying about being new to the Commonwealth. He knew the areas well enough, could identify Back Bay, Cambridge, Quincy, and a dozen other places, but when it came to knowing who was were or what was hidden among the folds of Boston, he was clueless.

Overall, Neil was unrefined, a little too eager, but devoted solely to improving.

One thing Neil was not however, was willing to entertain any conversation about training with blades. Andrew tuned most of the conversations between Kevin and Neil out in favor of entertaining his own imagination, but something about the sharp intensity of Neil’s “I won’t” during this particular training session had Andrew turning his attention on the other boy.

“It’s a necessary skill. What are you going to do if that’s the only weapon at your disposal?” Kevin demanded.

Neil ignored him, taking several audible gulps of water from his canteen. Sweat rolled off him steadily, dripping down the tendrils of his hair at the back of his neck, soaking the collar of his shirt, rolling down the sides of his face. He wiped the back of his hand lazily across his face. Andrew watched with what he told himself was detached aesthetic appreciation.

“Don’t ignore me,” Kevin chided.

“Then don’t disregard me. I told you, I won’t do it. I’m already fine with knives. I don’t need the training.”

“Kevin, let your plaything be,” Andrew said. He was stretched out lazily over the surface of a bench pushed against the far wall of the warehouse. He moved his eyes away from where they were fixed on Neil and stared up at the curves of the ceiling. “Can’t you see he’s scared?”

“Shut up,” Neil ground out with a ferocity unbefitting the current conversation.

“Hey,” Kevin said, attempting to pull Neil’s attention back to him. “This isn’t about him.” He pointed at Andrew but kept his cold gaze locked on Neil. “This is about you being a liability if you don’t have the right skills. Don’t waste everyone’s time. We’ll bring in some animals from the Commonwealth first, get you comfortable understanding the way a knife reacts in your hands—“

Neil threw his canteen fiercely at the ground, water splashing everywhere. Dogmeat let out a low whine, but didn’t pick his head up from where it was tucked atop his paws. Apparently Neil’s mutt wasn’t so impressed with his display.

“Not good,” Andrew said, all false glee and wide smile. “You made him mad, Kevin. Can’t you tell he doesn’t need your guidance? Apparently Neil’s an expert.” He drew out the last word, making it longer than it needed to be, much to the annoyance of both Kevin and Neil.

“Like you’re one to talk,” Neil snarled at Andrew. He almost seemed relieved to have a target for his anger. “Your knife work is mediocre at best.”

Kevin’s eyes went a little wide, sensing that the conversation was leaving the realm of his control, but too afraid to intervene.

“That’s not what you said when I held a knife to your chest,” Andrew said calmly. He could see it irritate Neil, that lack of emotion. It was amusing, watching his eyes grow a little darker, a little more wild, in exasperation.

“It was too pathetic to waste my breath on.”

Andrew’s smile threatened to tear his face in two. “Let’s try it again, then.”

Neil stared at him hard for a long moment before turning back to Kevin. When he spoke his words were low and rough, leaving no room for negotiation.

“I don’t need to practice with knives. There are plenty of other things I need to work on, but I’m telling you that will not be one of them. And I swear to God, Kevin—if you ever bring up practicing on live animals again, I will fucking walk.”

He slammed the door so fiercely when he left it shook the windows in the warehouse.

“Uh oh,” Andrew tutted. “Think you hurt his feelings.”

“Shut the fuck up, Andrew,” Kevin said before turning his attention to his gun and firing off a practice round.

* * *

 

Renee stood above him, hands on her hips, careful smile on her face.

“Do you want me to share the information with you first, or the whole group?” she asked.

Andrew didn’t bother to answer such an obvious question. Instead he sat up from where he was laying on his bed, and drew his legs up so they were crossed underneath him.

“The courser chip Neil found definitely belonged to someone working with Kellogg. The decoded information references him by name. There are a bunch of other obscure signifiers—typical of the Institute. Some references to a subject 10, DNA samples, safe houses.”

“Anything about Neil?”

Renee shook her head. “No, but the last logged information on the chip is from over a month ago. Any current information on Kellogg’s whereabouts or orders wouldn’t be there. Not exactly reliable. I tried to isolate the calling number of the chip and look for any signs of Kellogg with the rest of the information we have been able to uncover surrounding the Institute, but there’s nothing—about him, about the Vault, anything that might be helpful to Neil.”

“Everyone else with Wymack?”

Renee nodded. “I sent Matt in to round everyone up. They are just waiting on us.”

Andrew left his room and headed down the hall towards Wymack, stopping just before the door.

“He doesn’t know anything about the Institute. Spell everything out for him,” Andrew told Renee before opening the door.

Wymack’s room was large, with several armchairs and a couch in addition to his bed. Matt sat in the chair right next to Wymack, with Kevin and the others sharing the couch. Renee took her place in the chair next to Matt asAndrew fell onto the couch beside Kevin, facing directly across from Neil. He was the only one standing, trying to look casual as he leaned against the wall but he was failing miserably. His face was pulled tight with anguished anticipation as he waited for Renee to explain her findings.

“So, Renee,” Wymack said, a careful eye on Neil. “What did you find?”

Renee cleared her throat and remained seated as she spoke. “As we already know, coursers are operatives of the Institute, synths that carry out Institute missions. Courser chips are implanted in their brains so that the Institute has information regarding their whereabouts and how particular orders are being carried out. The chips are also used to relay into the Institute, which as everyone here already knows, is in an undisclosed location. We’ve learned from this chip, that this courser has been working with Kellogg. It's common for them to accompany mercenaries, especially to make sure they follow Institute orders,” she explained.

Renee was efficient in recounting the information she’d already divulged to Andrew. He watched for changes in Neil’s face—for recognition, or surprise—but his expression was carefully concealed. He was also carefully avoiding Andrew’s eyes.

“Any word on where Kellogg is now?” Wymack asked.

“We can probably use the data from the chip to poke around and find out Kellogg’s current location. But it will take some time,” Renee said.

“No,” Neil said. The word seemed to fall out of his mouth before he intended it to.

"Don't you want to go after him?" Nicky asked, confused.

Neil hesitated. "I want to know who Kellogg is working for."

"The institute," Aaron said. "How is that not obvious?"

"I think what Neil might be trying to say is he doesn't necessarily want to find Kellogg so much as know what he is up to,” Renee put in delicately. Neil didn’t bother to confirm or deny her analysis, instead working on hooking a finger in his mouth and clawing at his cheek. Andrew considered the strange urge he had to remove it with a mild disinterest—clinical, almost, in his consideration of it.

"That's naive," Kevin said. "No one knows anything the Institute doesn't want them to know. You want answers you have to find him and make him talk."

"Bold words from you Kevin," Andrew said, his eyes still trained on Neil.

Neil’s gaze finally slid to Andrew, the panicked look in his eyes transforming into something Andrew couldn’t quite identify. He held his gaze, because Andrew wanted to see what else was underneath those chilly blue eyes. After a moment it seemed they were shallower than he’d thought. Neil looked away just as it became apparent there was nothing else for Andrew to uncover.

“So this chip tells us where they last logged information about their mission,” Neil said. “When was that?”

“Well, not exactly where they last logged information. But information was logged on this chip about a month ago, at Cambridge Polymer Labs. Where they are now, or where they have been since then, is logged on a separate chip, in whichever courser is with Kellogg now.”

“That’s a long time,” Kevin said. “His trail is probably already cold. You’re better off waiting to see where he is currently and going from there.”

“I have a location and a time frame,” Neil said, face set with determination. “That’s all I need. I’ll leave today.”

“I’ll come with you,” Matt said.

Neil seemed uncomfortable with Matt’s sudden offer. “That’s alright,” he said, warily. “I don’t want to bother anyone.”

Andrew found a small pocket of amusement at the thought of Neil caring who he wreaked in his wake.

“I have to go that way anyway. There’s a Railroad safe house along the way that I need to check up on.”

“Group trip?” Nicky asked hopefully, forever eager to leave the walls of Goodneighbor.

Neil started to make incomprehensible sounds of protest, but it was Renee who answered after a careful look to Andrew.

“We shouldn’t draw attention to ourselves with big numbers that far North,” she said.

Nicky deflated. “Yeah, that makes sense,” he grumbled.

“You don’t have to come,” Neil said lowly to Matt.

Matt was all smiles, throwing an arm around Neil, who looked about ready to jump out of his skin. “No worries.”

“Neil might want his privacy,” Renee pointed out.

“I’ll just drop him off and pick him back up when he’s done. You know Ticonderoga needs our help anyway, Renee.”

Renee nodded solemnly and put on her best reassuring smile for Neil. He wasn’t impressed by it, but he did seem to visibly relax after Matt had given him reassurance of his privacy.

“Are we done?” Aaron asked. This caused Kevin to launch into the importance of paying close attention to every piece of information presented during a debriefing. Nicky snickered as Aaron made sounds of bored exasperation, and Neil took the opportunity to try to talk Matt out of joining him once again.

Andrew left the room, unsure of why he was subjecting himself to the histrionics of Neil Josten. He’d gotten his answers, and it was clear that Neil was no more trustworthy now than before. There wasn’t any reason to pay any attention to him anymore.

Andrew went straight for the watchtower along the west gate as he stepped outside.

“Beat it,” he said to the person on guard. The girl looked up at him in surprise from where she was sitting on her folding chair, rifle placed across her lap.

“Hancock said—”

“Leave,” Andrew said simply. She grumbled something unintelligible as she left her post. Andrew pulled the gun closer and folded his arms over the side of the tower. It was quiet, the streets dead, the last bit of light from the day was fading. Dusk.

He waited a while before he pulled the single cigarette he had left from his pocket and lit it with a careful appreciation. He drew a particularly deep breath, wasting the cigarette down a quarter of an inch. He held the smoke tight in his lungs for several long moments before blowing the smoke out of his nostrils in a single, steady breath.

“What are you doing?” Neil asked from below, throwing a glance over his shoulder to gauge how far behind Matt was. He apparently hadn’t even left the building yet. Probably still talking to Wymack.

Andrew didn’t answer, since it was clear he was sitting watch.

Neil looked behind him again before sighing and heaving himself up the ladder to stand beside Andrew.

If there was one thing Andrew could count on, it was his observation skills. He wasn’t blind to the way Neil waltzed past the advances of others. He wasn’t blind to the confusion and the irritation that bubbled across Neil’s features when someone hit on him. And yet there was something curious, something intense that seemed to color Neil’s interactions with Kevin—with Andrew for that matter—that suggested something different. Something that complicated the passivity of interactions with everyone else. Even still though, it was clear Neil didn’t care for any of it. And Andrew wasn’t an idiot. Andrew knew better than to waste his time, especially with someone like Neil, a lie up and down, with no regard for his own inconsistencies. Still, Andrew threw a sideways glance at the other boy.

He wasn’t surprised to find Neil looking back, but he was annoyed by it. He removed his gaze, deciding images of Neil were best saved for moments alone in his hotel room.

“What’s the deal with Kevin and the Brotherhood?” Neil asked.

“Ask him.” Another deep puff of his cigarette had his eyes half-lidded. Calm washed over him. The closest thing to comfort he could ever hope to have.

“Like I could get anything out of him before he’s reaching for a bottle.”

“Ask Wymack, then. Or any one else who gives a shit.”

“Don’t you?” Neil asked. When Andrew didn’t respond, Neil continued. “Give a shit? You spend all your time protecting him.”

“I don’t protect him because I care,” Andrew said, failing to comprehend how Neil could get such an idea in his head.

“You do it because of your promise,” Neil said. “Isn’t the entirety of the Brotherhood kind of a lot to protect someone from?”

“Aren’t you leaving?” Andrew asked.

Neil looked behind him once again. Andrew noticed his expression change, and figured Boyd was heading over.

“Better go get your answers,” Andrew said before Neil could toss out one of his snarky retorts. He took another long drag from his cigarette.

Neil turned his attention back to Andrew’s face, and seemed about to say something. He struggled with whatever it was, like he didn’t know what it was or how to verbalize it. But then Matt was calling up to him, and Neil lost it completely, shaking his head into the silence before heading down the stairs. Andrew watched them walk through the gates, staring hard at Neil’s back like he might be able to smudge him out of his life through sheer will power alone.


	10. Search and Destroy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Matt and Neil head off to find Kellogg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, hi! Sorry this one is late. Just had some issues figuring out how to connect certain pieces of the story with what is going to happen, as well as some general apathy towards editing. Hope it's not too rough. 
> 
> Thanks for reading :)

Matt seemed far more concerned with Neil’s well-being than Neil was, which Neil thought was rather odd, since Matt didn’t bother wearing any armor to protect himself. He strode along the street in a plain white t-shirt and a pair of dark pants, unconcerned with the various ways he could die exposed like that. 

As they made their way out of Goodneighbor’s range, Matt listed off all the supplies he gathered from Abbie before leaving. He pulled them one by one out of the pack he’d grabbed, showing Neil various bottles of medicine, food rations, bandages, and stimpaks. Neil didn’t slow his pace, but Matt kept at his side, giving short but thorough descriptions of each item. Dogmeat seemed content to trot along on the other side of Matt, who kept slipping him scraps of food.

“Kevin also insisted you have this,” Matt dangled a switchblade between his fingers. Neil squared his shoulder in response to the irritation he felt flame inside his chest and grabbed the bag and the blade from Matt’s hands. 

Neil kept quiet as they moved, content to scan along the streets for potential threats. He fiddled with his Pip-Boy, cross-referencing its map with the map he’d been going over with Kevin. If they stuck northwest, and stayed along the shoulder of the Charles River to cross at Longfellow Bridge, they weren't likely to run into any trouble in the form of other settlements or raiders. Creatures were less predictable and therefore more likely to pose threats, but the cover of darkness would hopefully keep them at bay. Neil kept all of his attention focused on being alert. He was thankful to be traveling at night. The lower the sun dipped towards the horizon, the easier his breathing became. 

Matt didn’t speak again until they were approaching the bridge. 

“Raiders have been known to put mines out,” he said, his eyes trained on the expanse of the bridge. 

Neil let out a low whistle to alert Dogmeat, but the German Shepherd was already on it, charging ahead of them to sniff out potential threats in their path. His first bark came sixty yards up the bridge. 

“I got it,” Matt said, making quick work of disarming the mine. His hands seemed too big to be able to effectively work without blowing them all to hell, but sure enough the mine let out a quick three pinged beep and the lights switched from red to green. He tossed it at Neil. “Might need it for something.” 

Dogmeat sniffed out another three mines as they made their way across the bridge. Each time Matt disarmed one, he handed it over to Neil without a moment’s hesitation. 

“You don’t want one?” Neil asked, staring down at the last one in his hands. 

“You’re looking for Kellogg. You can use every advantage you find along the way,” he said as he patted Neil on the shoulder. “Besides, we haven’t survived this long in the Railroad without having our own weapons. There’s plenty for me to dig through at the base.” 

Neil looked down at the single weapon in Matt’s possession, a .38 caliber rifle with an improperly mounted scope and duct tape around the sawed-off barrel. “Uh, ok,” he said, not bothering to hide his uncertainty. 

Matt didn’t seemed concerned by Neil’s skeptical look. As they sunk low and cleared the rest of the bridge, his eyes remained friendly—even as they were fixed on searching potential threats. 

“You know, it’s good to have you on our side. You’re Kevin approved so that has to count for something,” Matt said as they crossed the threshold into Cambridge. 

Neil didn’t have a response to Kevin’s apparent seal of approval. “Are we?” The words came out of his mouth before he could realize he didn’t want to say them. “On the same side?” 

Matt shook his head slightly. The laugh that escaped his lips was as incredulous as it was soft. “You know, despite whatever Andrew’s lot might tell you, Kevin is aligned with the Railroad.” 

Neil knew his expression once again unveiled his disbelief, but it didn’t seem to faze Matt. 

“You ever need anything, you ever need to get away from them, or get Kevin off your back, you find me. You’ve got a place at the Railroad. Remember that, yeah?” 

“Uh.” Neil refused to make eye contact with him. He focused on the soft crunch of rubble under his boots.“Thanks.” 

“Word is you are with the Minutemen,” Matt said, offering a smile along with a shift in conversation. “That’s awesome. I’ve heard a lot of good things about them.” 

It wasn’t a question, but Matt was so damn nice Neil begrudgingly offered a response anyway. 

“They’re small, but fierce.” 

“That’s what the gossip says,” Matt said, his tone still easy. “What do you think of their leader?” 

Neil felt his eyebrows furrow. He threw a sideways glance at Matt. 

“Dan Wilds? She’s good at what she does. Efficient. Ruthless, but compassionate in that hard way of hers.” 

Matt’s smile grew wider and more private, but he didn’t say anything else on the matter. Dogmeat let out a low whine, begging for more scraps and Matt handed some over without hesitating. 

“We’ll part ways at Kendall Hospital,” Matt said. “The lab is right by CIT, so you should be careful to avoid the old college as you make your way down. We’ll continue north as we approach Kendall and then you can double back around. Going around through the back streets will help keep you under the radar. The school tends to be a hub for synths for whatever reason, and you don’t need the extra trouble.”

Neil was quiet for a moment before he decided it was probably in his best interest to get answers to the questions he was harboring. 

“So what exactly is the deal with Synths, anyway? Why is everyone afraid of them?” 

If Matt wanted to ask why Neil didn't know any of this information, he hid it carefully. Neil could spot neither confusion nor disbelief in his features. Matt answered his question seamlessly, without a moment of hesitation. Neil was oddly comforted by it. 

“About sixty years ago, a man by the name of Mr. Carter came to Diamond City. He befriended the citizens, told extravagant tales of the wasteland. He was well-liked and respected, but one day he went on a rampage right in the center of the market—killed about five citizens. When he was killed, Diamond City security saw that he was a synth. No one really knew that they existed. From there, paranoia spread. Synths that looked like humans could infiltrate settlements. Replace loved ones. Kill every human without batting an eye. No one trusted synths or anyone suspected of being a synth after that” 

“But people trust Wymack.” 

“Now they do. He rescued the former mayor’s child when he first arrived. People had to accept him after that. He was just doing odd jobs at first, repairs on the wall, helping to patch up people’s homes. There was no detective agency. More children went missing though, and he was the only one people could go to to look for them. He has a habit of doing that,” Matt grinned, his loyalty and love for the man apparent as he flashed his teeth. “Finding people who are lost, even when everyone else has given up on them.” 

“Savior complex,” Neil muttered. 

Matt just smiled. “Yeah, a lot of people think that. But still, every time someone comes to him with another impossible case, he takes it.” 

“Is that why you are all so loyal to him?” Neil asked. He hadn’t missed everyone’s reverence for the man, even Andrew and his family seemed appreciative of the man’s presence. 

Matt was quiet for a moment, seeming to decide how he wanted to direct the conversation. They were only a few streets from the hospital, but the story ghosting Matt’s face seemed like it would take much longer to explain. 

"You know, Renee and I, we are synths." Matt stretched his long arm out in front of him, flexing his fingers into a fist and spreading them out again. He looked at Neil and let out a small laugh. "A little surprising, huh?" 

Neil nodded. "A little. You don’t look…” He gestured with his hands. 

Matt let out a short laugh at Neil’s lack of tact. “Like a mess of metal? Yeah. We are the upgraded model.” He ran a hand over his head and brought it down his face, letting out a sigh. “Wymack is a generation two synth. Renee and I, we are gen 3.” 

“Is there a big difference?” 

“You mean besides the appearance? Wymack is the only gen 2 synth I’ve met with autonomy, with a personality. Our bodies, though. That’s the big difference. We bleed. Have organs. Indistinguishable from humans.” Matt’s smile dropped considerably. The frown looked a little unnatural on his face. “We are the synths people have nightmares about. Like Mr. Carter.” 

Having neither the skill nor the vocabulary to offer sympathy, Neil shifted his pack awkwardly on his back, adjusting the straps just to have an excuse to move his hands. In truth, he wasn’t sure how he felt about this whole synth business. All he knew was that it was so far down on his list of priorities, it wouldn’t do him any good to bother worrying about it. 

“It doesn’t matter to me,” he said finally. Matt glanced at him, but Neil continued. “Synth, raider, Minutemen. All that matters is whether that person is pointing a gun my way. It doesn’t do me any good to bother with the details of their identity.” 

“I appreciate that.” He hesitated for a moment before continuing, “But one day, someone might force you to make a choice. You should consider where you stand in this mess while you still have time to think about it.” 

But Neil already knew where he would stand if that time came. Any place that had him surviving and far away from his father was the place he would choose. 

Neil’s response was cut off by a firm hand pressed on his shoulder as Matt ducked low, searching for cover. There was an abandoned vehicle twenty yards ahead, and behind it Neil heard a sharp clacking sound that filled the empty streets. Dogmeat settled along the opposite side of the street, watching the creatures approach with ears flat against his head. His fur bristled along his back, and as Neil caught sight of what was coming for them, he couldn’t blame the dog for his reaction. 

Three crab-like creatures headed their way, each standing at least a foot taller than Matt. They were as wide as a bathtub, with fierce pincers and spidery legs. Neil couldn’t get a good look at their coloring, but their silhouettes in the darkness was enough to have his pulse quicken. 

“Mirelurks,” Matt muttered, punctuating his explanation with a creative string of curses as he readied his gun. Dogmeat seemed to know instinctually that this was not his type of fight, dropping himself low to ground and moving away from where they were approaching, and Neil couldn’t blame him. He didn’t really want to go out and face them either. 

Matt moved first, darting out from the car to try and catch at least once by surprise. It backfired a little bit as Neil fired a shot that ended up ricocheting off the creatures shell. 

Matt pushed Neil behind him, aggressive and fierce in his stance as he darted around the first two creatures, firing shots with precision that Neil was envious of despite his weapon. One of the mirelurks surged forward, checking Matt hard into the side of the car, but Matt was rolling away in the next moment, gun pressed against the creatures soft underbelly as he pulled the trigger twice. 

Their gunshots echoed through the air, and Neil wondered vaguely if anything else would come searching for them. The scurried clatter of claws against concrete snapped him out of his head, and bringing his gun up as a final Mirelurk made its way towards him. 

Neil knew that every bullet he fired hit exactly where he'd intended it to land, but nothing happened. The creature kept coming for him, unfazed and unaffected. He pulled the trigger again, but was knocked flat on his back as the creature rammed into him—claws coming up to seize his forearm. The barbed armor along his forearm kept his skin from breaking, but the pressure of the strong claws had his hand spasming, dropping his weapon. Neil brought his other arm up to protect himself from where the creature was trying to snap at his neck as he tried desperately to push the damn thing off of him. 

Matt grabbed at the back of the creature’s shell, pulling him off of Neil so he could take a shot at its head. Neil was out of breath, panting, as the creature finally fell limp beside him. Matt pried the claws off of Neil’s arm and sunk down next to him. 

"Have to aim for their heads." Matt said. "Their shells won't be pierced by bullets." 

Neil nodded numbly, clutching his forearm close to his chest. 

"We need to find cover and take a look at that,” Matt said, motioning to Neil’s arm. 

“I’m fine,” Neil said as he sat up. 

Matt shook his head. “It could be broken. Those claws have an immense amount of strength behind them.” 

“Really,” Neil said, shaking out his arm. “I’m fine. We should get going though. Who knows how many people just heard all that.” 

Matt looked at Neil, a curious expression playing on his face, before nodding. “Yeah. Alright. Let’s go.” 

They didn’t say anything the three short blocks up to the hospital, but Matt offered once again to take a look at Neil’s arm before he left. Neil reassured him that, yes, he was indeed fine, before sending him off towards the safe house. Matt couldn’t help but agree that traveling too late at night was dangerous for the both of them, and reminded Neil that they could walk back together if Neil decided. 

“There’s a radio at the safe house. Contact us if you decide you want the extra cover,” Matt said, supplying him with the relevant information to tune his Pip-Boy into the safe house radio. And then, just like that, he was off, heading back east up along Washington Street before disappearing behind an abandoned building. Neil headed in the opposite direction, towards the river, careful to avoid where Raiders had set up at Union Hope Cathedral while also making sure to keep a wide radius away from the Cambridge Police Station where he’d run into Jean last. 

The shadows of the old office park hung heavy in the clusters of biotech buildings that Neil passed. There was the Cambridge Institute of Technology, with its wide white pillars calling out to the Charles, giving the entire neighborhood the feeling of impressive extravagance. But other than that, it was as though the streets themselves felt like a laboratory, even amongst the rubble of the apocalypse, too uniform and precise.

It was barely a three minute journey to reach the Cambridge Polymer Labs from the hospital, and Neil was grateful that no other creatures had shown up to draw attention to him. 

The lab took up the entire block between Danforth and Endicott Street, sitting adjacent from the Charles. It was a large, no nonsense building, with two stories and almost no distinguishing characteristics. The building was essentially one large, boring rectangle. 

Neil paused to face the Charles before entering the building, and he was struck by what a strange sight it was, looking out towards the city and not seeing it lit up. Living near Concord meant that he hadn’t spent a lot of time in Boston, but his mother’s contact had been in the city so he’d gotten used to it. Neil had taken a liking to the quiet business of Boston—crowded enough for cover and slow enough for comfort. They’d hardly spent any time in Cambridge though. It was too small, too residential, and with all the colleges—Harvard, CIT, Cambridge College, Lesley—came all the college students. His mother hadn’t wanted any temptation to surround Neil. Neil wasn’t sure he’d ever seen the skyline from Cambridge at night, but it was jolting none the less. 

Neil was cautious as he pushed open the front doors and made his way inside Cambridge Polymer Labs, but there was nothing unpleasant greeting him as he made his way inside. 

The space was brighter than Neil expected any building in the Commonwealth to be at night, and for a moment he was so startled at seeing the sky above him that all he could do was stare at the stars. An atrium encompassed the roof of the lobby, and with glass panes all gone there wasn’t any dirt or rubble to impede moonlight from pouring in. 

The lobby had been nice once, with a couch and chairs making up a waiting area, and a broad front desk greeting visitors with a bright orange pumpkin sitting atop. There were a few room off to the left, and a hallway off the right, and besides the large metal pole breaking between the first and second floors, everything looked relatively untouched—if not terribly decayed.

Neil moved through the space rapidly, deciding with a quick inspection of each room that there wasn’t anything worth his time. He was eager to see what else he could find deep within the facility, certain there must have been a specific draw for Kellogg to come here. He made his way down the hallway, through what appeared to be a break room, and down past rows of employee lockers. At the end of the hall was a pair of thick metal doors, and a sign indicating he was about to entire the research portion of the facility. 

The doors to the lab were locked, sealed shut with no way of entering. He searched for a mechanism to override the control on the doors, but came up short. 

Neil banged a fist against the glass of the decontamination room. It was thick, bullet proof. He looked up at the ceiling tiles before grabbing a stool and pressing up on them. They were loose, and he was thankful. He pet Dogmeat once on the head and ordered him to stay where he was before heaving himself up. It was a careful balancing act on the beams as he tried not to fall through the ceiling. He removed a tile once he was across the threshold of the locked doors and lowered himself into the main part of the facility, crouching low and hugging the wall as he turned the corner in case he had any company. 

It was the low growl of feral ghouls that had Neil reaching for his gun. There were four lurking in the expanse of the lab and they all came running for him at once, mouths open and eagerly snapping shut as they tried to bite at his flesh. 

Neil used the butt of his gun to knock the closest one backwards, jumping to his left to bring two down in rapid succession. Sharp nails clawed along his chest plate, making long, deep scratches, as the ghoul he’d thrust backwards came at him again. Neil courted low, grabbed at the ankles of the creature to bring him down and shot him in the head as it attempted to get up. The speed and ferocity of the last feral ghoul called for three shots right to its face before it fell at Neil’s feet. 

Neil reloaded his gun, and stayed still for a long moment, waiting to see if others would arrive. It remained silent in the facility, and Neil started making his way through once again, making quick work of checking each of the lab rooms. It was in the director’s office that Neil finally found something worth exploring. 

Sitting on a desk off to the corner of the room was a functioning terminal. Next to it, a bright orange ham radio. Neil recognized the terminal from Vault 111, a bare-bones computer that provided information such as report logs and security details. He ran his hand along the bottom of the machine, looking for an access point. Felt along the grooves and indentation before detaching the adapter plug from his Pip-Boy and sticking it into the switch at the bottom of the terminal. The information on the computer displayed on the screen of his Pip-Boy. 

There wasn’t much to be learned—not that Neil expected anything substantial. He’d gotten lucky with the holotape in Kellogg’s house and it was naive to think that he would find anything else here. Most of the information stored on the terminal was related to a particular chemical serum that was being developed. Neil guessed that the skeletons in lab coats that he’d seen scattered around the facility where former scientists who had been trapped following the security shutdown initiated on this terminal. There was an inventory list and entry logs, notes on various synthetic polymer research projects, but nothing specific to Kellogg, the Butcher, or any of the information that had been recorded on the holotape Neil had listened to. He clicked on a file labeled LIBERTY PRIME PROJECT and read notes from the US Military’s Defense Experimental Research Project Initiative detailing orders to complete a special project. The last update on the orders was October 23, 2077—the day the bombs dropped outside of Boston. The project apparently remained incomplete. 

“There are all kinds of things listed here,” Neil said to himself as he doubled back through the tabs and landed on the inventory log. 

The list was extensive: piezonucleic chest armor, a variety of chems and medicines and serums, samples of hydrochloric acid and lithium hydride and other chemicals Neil couldn’t make sense of, explosives. The list continued on and on. The materials were stored in a locked cage off to Neil’s right. He unplugged from the terminal hastily. 

Neil grabbed what he could, smashing the padlock with the butt of his gun until it gave, loading as many of the small vials as he could into his bag, and switching out his chest plate for the superior one. If nothing else, they would surely sell for a hefty chunk of caps. 

If Kellogg had been here, it would likely have been to gather materials, but it was hard to guess what he was searching for and why he needed it. Besides, if that was the case, it was unclear why anything was left at all. Why not take everything he could get his hands on? 

It was possible Kellogg hadn’t come here for any of this, but it begged the question of why exactly he had come here. Neil couldn’t help but feel that the whole thing was a bust, especially as the rest of his search turned up nothing. As his mind spiraled through all of the potential scenarios, he realized just how hopeless this entire thing was. If Kellogg was anything like the others had described, he wouldn’t leave a trail. He was too good, too professional. And yet, Neil couldn’t ignore that gnawing feeling in his stomach, or that voice in his mind the kept reminding him that Kellogg had been reckless enough to leave behind that holotape after all. 

Dragging his feet as he moved, Neil made his way back through the lab and hurled himself back up into the ceiling. Dogmeat was waiting for him in the same spot he’d been left, but led Neil into the break room as soon as his feet touched the ground. Neil sat in one of the spare chairs and let out an uncomfortable sigh, rubbing a hand down his face as he wondered what he should do next. Dogmeat sniffed at some of the left over food, rolling a can along the floor until it hit Neil’s boot. Letting out a low groan, he nudged the can towards Neil once more in anticipation of eating. 

Neil pierced the top of the can with the switchblade Kevin had packed, smirking slightly at the thought of Kevin’s reaction for using such a quality blade for such a ridiculous thing. He dumped the contents of the can onto a spare plate in the cupboard and Dogmeat ate sloppily, greedily. 

“One more sweep,” Neil said to himself, leaving Dogmeat to his meal as he headed out towards the lobby. 

He didn’t want to have to use Renee to figure out where Kellogg was. He felt uncomfortable enough that she was involved—really, that nearly everyone was involved. But if he couldn’t find something here, what choice did he have really? 

He stopped suddenly, catching sight of a half smoked cigar crushed under the front desk. It was too subtle, too unlikely to be anything. But as Neil reached down for it, he knew he recognized it. Sure enough, the tiny seal near the mouth of the wrapper was a familiar one. San Francisco Sunlights. He recalled the unopened boxes of this particular brand of cigars stuffed away on the shelves of Kellogg’s hidden room. One of his creature comforts, it seemed. 

It could be anyone’s. It could lead him nowhere. But in his chest, Neil felt a sensation he couldn’t quite shake. That same sensation he had felt when Kevin had offered him a place to be. That same sensation he had felt when Andrew allowed him to stay. His head—the voice of his mother—was telling him not to be stupid, but he felt it anyway: Hope. 

Neil whistled to Dogmeat, who came trotting up next to him obediently. 

He held the cigar out for the dog to sniff. 

“Think you can track it, boy?” 

A single affirmative bark, and Dogmeat was off. Neil followed him out of the building, clinging tightly to the cigar, hopeful in spite of everything that he might finally get answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next: Andrew squares off with Riko. Yes, I am excited. And yes, it will be (hopefully) epic. 
> 
> \---  
> Don't really know why I thought I could originally make Neil find Kellogg in this chapter, or make the entire Kellogg arc fit across two chapters, but it's pretty clear now that that will not be the case. Bummer because the boys will be separated, but hopefully exciting because dark Neil will be coming out to play. This chapter is mostly setting up for Neil's epic showdown with this crazy merc, so apologies if its slow or shit or too exposition-y.
> 
> So sidenote, this month is Camp NaNoWriMo (anyone else doing it?????) which means I'm juggling this story with another writing project. The prep for it means that I have the next ten chapters of this story planned out in their entirety (!!), and I'm so excited about what is to come. The downside is that I'm juggling two massive projects. Still aiming to have two chapters up a week, but it may turn out to be once a week on a few occasions. 
> 
> Also, anyone who is familiar with the game, or with Boston in general, or if you're not at all but want something to happen in a cool place, please let me know if there are specific places you would like to see incorporated in the story! I've already decided on some that I will be using, but its so big--both the game and the city--that obviously not everything will be making its way in. 
> 
> That's all for now folks.   
> Feedback is appreciated :) Find me on tumblr if you are so inclined: @gladiatorgrl


	11. Raider Troubles at Finch Farm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Andrew squares off with Riko Moriyama

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Feels like I haven’t been in the writing groove for a while now! Apologies for being late on the last few uploads. In all honesty, I just didn’t know what was going on with this chapter, ESPECIALLY where to set it. I played the game for way longer than I intended trying to figure out where this whole chapter would go down, and I still didn’t have a place eight hours later. It ended with me leaving my apartment to walk aimlessly around Boston waiting for an idea to strike me, which thankfully it did. Nothing like picturing Andrew in a cold, wet marsh to get those creative juices flowing. 
> 
> Also, also. Struggle was real with deciding how the Riko/Andrew interaction would play out. Guess I never realized how little they actually interact in the books??? So please please let me know if it’s crazy OOC. Tried my best but *shrug* 
> 
> Next upload by Sunday evening (maybe earlier! but definitely definitely not later. I feel too guilty to do that again!)

Lying belly down in an irradiated marsh at 2 am had Andrew fantasizing about his fingers around Kevin’s neck. Cold and wet weren’t states Andrew appreciated being subject to. And if murder wasn’t a contradiction to providing him protection, Andrew would be plotting Kevin’s death in a thoroughly detailed manner. He supposed it wouldn’t strictly be breaking his promise—he’d made a deal to protect Kevin from the Brotherhood and the Institute not death itself. That technicality was enough to keep him entertained as he waited for more dimwitted Raiders to appear. 

With Nicky squished between Andrew and Aaron, the air felt too twitchy for effective scouting. Nicky kept shifting in the mud, sending small squishing sounds echoing in the space surrounding them, and Aaron was tense, hand cramping around his rifle as he stared unblinking at the road towards the settlement. Kevin and Renee kept their cool to Andrew’s right—Kevin from years of training, Renee from years of experience. 

The call from the settlement at Finch Farm came in around midnight and had Kevin reverting into Brotherhood mode immediately. His demands came out sharp and relentless as he snapped orders at anyone who was unlucky enough to be in his line of vision. Andrew fought him every step of the way because it was too damn funny not to, but grew bored of it as they approached Railroad HQ to retrieve Renee. His brother and his cousin were less than amused with both Kevin and Andrew’s behavior—especially since the call interrupted their coveted sleep schedules. 

An incoming Raider attack, that’s what had been broadcasted to the radio at Goodneighbor. It only took the fifteen minutes from Goodneighbor to Old North Church for the distress call to be elevated. Raiders had taken several of the settlers hostage with the demand one of the faction give them 5,000 caps. Kevin’s instance they help grew not only louder, but more frequent with each step they took forward. This is what he was good at, what he had been prepared for. Sure Kevin was a spineless obsessive that pumped all of his energy into fighting and vodka, but he had been trained for exactly this: responding to emergency calls and using distress as a way to gain allies. It was so predictable that Andrew made a game out of guessing what Kevin would do next. He was right every time. 

The settlement was north of the airport where the Brotherhood had just made their headquarters, but Kevin didn’t seem alarmed at the potential threat. This also kept Andrew mildly entertained. Kevin’s willingness to venture out, his willingness to have a spine, was refreshing, but the amusement was quickly squashed by the prospect of dealing with the Brotherhood. It wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle, of this he was certain, but it was the principle of having his life made harder with Kevin waltzing right into their territory that had Andrew leaning towards being annoyed. It did nothing to help Kevin’s case that Andrew was sober. Not even the amusement of fucking with Riko would keep him intrigued long enough to give a shit about any of this. And this was all before Kevin had insisted they head east and take position in the swamp across the way. 

Andrew hadn’t taken his drugs recently. Fighting off sleep was impossible when he was high and it hadn’t been quite time for bed when the call had come in. The effects of withdrawal were starting to bubble in Andrew’s chest. Each whispered demand Kevin gave to move forward grated against Andrew’s ears, each word bringing with it a new wave of nausea. 

"Shut it, Day,” Andrew said, gaze unsteady as he looked out towards the farm. 

“Hostages,” Kevin repeated. His pleas to move in were at full volume now, Brotherhood training be damned. “As in, they are trapped. We’ve picked off all the Raiders holding the perimeter by now. We need to get in there before they decide to elevate the situation.” 

“Two of our operatives are there as well. We need to get them out safely,” Renee said. She didn't make a move from her spot two bodies down from Andrew, but her voice carried far enough that even Nicky could hear. 

“Our primary concern is humans,” Kevin said. “If we happen to save any synths afterwards, fine.” 

“You shouldn’t be so careless towards your allies,” Renee countered. 

“How about we save our own asses instead?” Nicky asked. The look Kevin slid at him was murderous. Deserting was traitorous in Kevin’s eyes. 

“Seriously. How stupid are we to go rushing in and get ourselves killed?” Aaron said. His tone was flippant, but Andrew could see through his forced apathy. Apparently, Kevin could as well. 

Kevin leaned over Andrew to address the other twin.“You finally stop pretending everything is boring to you, and all you care about is saving your own skin?”

“Ha,” Andrew said, his voice at full volume. “Now I know you’re delusional.” 

Kevin and Aaron both looked to him, and then each other, unsure to which of them Andrew’s comment was addressed. Andrew didn’t bother to specify. They were both so beyond his consideration he didn’t feel like wasting the breath. 

"We have to move in," Kevin insisted again after the moment of confusion passed. 

"No," Andrew said as he rubbed his eyes. He yawned into the back of his hand. "We don't." 

"It's a distress beacon. Don't you remember what our duty is here?" 

The look Andrew slid Kevin was so barren Kevin was silent a moment. 

"I won't let them suffer because you are too lazy to do anything.” Kevin’s words were harsh but quiet. This was controlled rage, fueled by equal parts condescension and helplessness. “I'll go myself if you don't care to." 

"Do I have to strap you down myself to make you less of a walking target?" Andrew asked. "Let go of what you thought you could do when you were a part of the Brotherhood. That went out the window when we made our agreement." 

"I didn't agree to this,” Kevin said fiercely. And he was right, he hadn't. Kevin had been careful in arranging their deal, but Andrew had underestimated the power Kevin had actually managed to craft for himself. It was clear as far as Kevin was concerned, he didn’t want to die at the Moriyama’s hands. But to not be a soldier was a worse death. He wouldn’t give that part of himself away. 

No one would dare to move before Andrew, this he knew. He surveyed the area once more before rising. It was the bitter hatred of being cold and wet that got Andrew up more than wanting to shut Kevin up. Not a word was spared as he began to move, and Kevin didn’t appear to want any regardless. Commands were issued along with subtle judgements on ability, with Kevin providing a list of each individual’s shortcomings along with their instructions. Andrew tuned him out in favor of taking point, paying attention only as Renee brought Nicky and Aaron to loop around from the west. 

“You could put some effort in,” Kevin muttered as he dropped closer to the ground. 

“I could, couldn’t I?” 

It was a small settlement, a field around the back of a cabin with some tato plants and razorgrain and a small brahmin for plowing. The cabin barely fit five mattresses, let alone the extra supplies stacked lazily on the empty floor space available. An overpass for a pre-war highway in ruins loomed eight stories above them, but it was cut off on both sides and entirely inaccessible. There were hardly any defensive structures on the land. In all likelihood Raiders just waltzed in without any resistance. Andrew felt strongly that these idiots deserved what they had gotten themselves into. 

The settlers were tied and gagged—two women, a man and a young boy. Tears spilled down the cheeks of the young boy as Kevin entered through the main door. Raiders opened fire, but in his Power Armor Kevin was unstoppable. He crushed the skull of the nearest enemy with his fist, squeezing it in his giant metal hand as he threw the body against the wall. There were only two of them, and at the sight of his fallen comrade, the second Raider was stunned into paralysis.

“Anyone else?” Kevin demanded. 

The Raider stared up at him eyes wide. “Kevin Day.” 

“Anyone else?” He asked again. 

The man shook his head rapidly. Kevin sunk a blade into his neck and held tight until the body crumpled. He made quick work of untying the settlers. 

“Get rid of the bodies, Aaron,” he said without a glance towards anyone else. 

Renee attended to the synth as soon as she was untied. Apparently the other synth had escaped to Ticonderoga for help once the Raiders arrived. Kevin attempted to glean as much information as possible out of the other settlers, Nicky right as his side soaking up the gossip. 

Andrew went around the corner of the cabin to smoke his last cigarette. The withdrawal was getting bad, and he had half a mind to ask Kevin for another dose. Instead he took slow, exceptionally shaky breaths, focusing every so often on holding smoke in his lungs for as long as possible. He aimed at the stars as he exhaled, blowing the smoke in a slender sharpened line. Letting his mind wander was sometimes a dangerous thing, but Andrew was okay with it just then. Anything to distract from the incessant rattling of Kevin’s inquiries. 

The twitching spread from Andrew’s fingers and up his arms as he drew smoke from the last bit of his cigarette, and he knew he wouldn’t last long now. He gritted his teeth, sure somehow that he could hold it out just a little longer. A vile thing, vomiting. As filthy as it was undignified. 

He swallowed roughly a few times, trying to rub his esophagus raw with the force of it. His hands kept shaking, clammy and wet with a mix of sweat and swamp water. Andrew dropped on his hands and knees without realizing, hating the vulnerability of the position but not present enough to do anything about it. He could hold out, he was sure of it. If he couldn’t control his body in this one moment, then what was the point of anything he was doing anyway?

He felt movement around him, the others repositioning themselves behind him, and then suddenly everyone was still. Movement in the distance had Aaron tensed, Renee reaching for a knife, and Nicky shutting his mouth. But it was Kevin, frozen where he stood, that brought realization to Andrew from several feet below the man. 

“Kevin.” The voice alone almost succeeding in jolting him from his withdrawal. Andrew was surprised at how creaky his bones were as he strained his neck to attend to their visitor. “This is what you ran away from the Brotherhood for?” 

Riko Moriyama stood looming above Andrew, arms crossed crisply across his chest, his cold smile full of amusement. No Power Armor adorned his body, though the same couldn’t be said for the large man that stood to his right. Jean was another foot taller than he should have been, body encased in metal. 

On the other hand, Riko wasn’t that large of a man—slender in a way that was almost delicate if it weren’t for the sheer frigidity of it. He didn’t have more than a few inches on the twins. Andrew wasn’t fooled or impressed by the shadow of a throne Riko had built around himself. He knew how easy it was to knock someone down, and he looked forward to offering that experience to Riko. 

“A whimpering guard dog you’ve no control over?” Riko elaborated. He didn’t even bother to look down at Andrew. He had eyes only for Kevin. 

Andrew made direct eye contact with the other man as he deposited the contents of his stomach on the ground. Riko recoiled with a grunt of disgust, and Andrew was up quicker than he should have been, taking a step into the space Riko had tried to erect for himself. When Riko stepped back, Andrew flashed his teeth, satisfied that he’d won so easily. 

“Oops.” Andrew’s teeth were savage. He spat on the ground in front of Riko’s boots. “I missed. What a shame.” 

“Andrew.” Riko’s lips curled around his name in a way that had Andrew itching to put his fist through the other man’s teeth. “I hear you've got a last name these days. How exciting for you." 

"If you find that exciting wait until you learn about the shiny new weapons I've acquired." 

Riko laughed, a cold thing. 

"Kevin, I can't say I approve of the company you keep." 

"Can't say anyone gives a shit what you approve of,” Andrew said, keeping hold of the conversation. 

Riko narrowed his eyes. Jean shifted to his side and addressed his hissing at Kevin. 

"It would do you good to keep your dog in line and to remember your place." 

Riko raised a hand to silence Jean. 

“Looks like you have some training of your own to attend to,” Andrew said flatly. 

“Make no mistake, Minyard. I have complete control over my subjects. This is why we are the superior choice for protection in the wasteland. You and your team, if it can even be considered that, are a disgrace.” Riko slid his eyes lazily over each of them. “For you to offer protection to others is in an insult to every settlement in the Commonwealth.” 

It was Renee who spoke next, taking a barely detectable step between Kevin and the other two men. 

“I didn’t expect this to be the attitude of the Brotherhood.” Her voice was loud enough, carried over the threshold into the cabin, reminding Riko he had an audience.

The settlers were in their cabin still, listening through the barely opened door that cast a sliver of light across the front yard. Riko turned to them only slightly, just barely really. Andrew was sure he was the only one that noticed the gesture, but the realization behind Renee’s words had him plastering his Brotherhood smile across his face. 

“Of course the primary concern is providing the Commonwealth with the most superior protection. We are merely responding to a call, same as you, albeit in a far less reckless manner,” Riko said. 

Jean stepped barely an inch closer towards Kevin, but Andrew raised a hand to his chest, effectively stopping him despite the taller man’s Power armor. Andrew ignored the tiny shake of Kevin’s head, and refocused his attention on Jean. 

“Mighty bold of you, trying to step into enemy territory like that.” 

Jean’s gray eyes were icy. “For us to be enemies, we’d have to see you as capable of competing with us, and that would never happen. You aren’t more than rodents to us, too stubborn to die out in the Wasteland.” 

“You know, Kevin. I like that as a new motto for us. What do you say: too stubborn to die. Has a nice ring to it, no?” 

“Hit the nail on the head with that one,” Aaron grumbled. 

“See even my brother agrees. You get the Minyard twin seal of approval. Lucky you.” 

Jean took a step back as Aaron moved forward to stand next to his brother. It was an intimidation tactic Aaron was used to. He didn’t have his brother’s notoriety, but seeing a carbon copy at Andrew’s left was enough to send most people running. Often utilized at Kevin’s request, it was rare for Andrew to make use of it. Andrew remained interested in watching how Riko and Jean responded. 

Jean held his ground, but just barely. His eyes flicked to Riko, waiting for an order. Andrew could see it wasn’t a move made in fear of the twins. Andrew saw a dozen punishments flash through Jean’s eyes. There wasn’t a drop of sympathy to be felt for any of it. He saw Renee’s frame shift, knew that she noticed it too. Knowing her though, he doubted she felt the same indifference to Jean’s plight. 

“Jean.” The word was sharp, efficient. An order. A command. Jean had a gun to Aaron’s head in the next moment. 

It wasn’t chaos, though everyone’s hand twitched towards their weapons. Andrew felt Nicky’s restraint most strongly, but knew he would ultimately keep still. This is exactly what Andrew was here for, to protect them. To lack faith in him now was to doubt he had ever been able to do it, and despite Nicky’s refusal to learn Andrew’s limits he had most definitely learned by now that Andrew could take any and all blows. 

He was shaking with withdrawal once again. Another wave of it crashed through Andrew and had him teetering on the precipice of lunacy. The laugh he let out was slow and mocking, as was the clap that followed. 

“That’s such a cute display, Riko. Really, if it wasn’t so pathetic it would almost be admirable that you tried.” Andrew’s word were silky sweet. 

Aaron copied the smile he was so used to seeing on his brother and took his turn to speak. “You think you can knock down a Minyard? That would imply we haven’t been below the ground to begin with.” 

Andrew flicked his eyes to Renee who had a gun raised the moment Andrew aimed his at Riko’s forehead. Now it was Riko’s turn in the power game. He stayed still, amused by Andrew’s display even as Andrew took the few steps towards him. It wasn’t until he pressed the temple of the gun to Riko’s forehead that Riko pressed his own gun to Andrew’s gut. 

“Children shouldn’t play with guns,” Riko warned. 

“Tell that to your pet.” 

Riko dragged the gun across Andrew’s stomach, from one side to the other and back again. 

“A bullet wound to the stomach is a slow painful death.” Riko twitched the corner of his mouth up. “But you don’t deserve a death that easy. I’ll have to break you before I allow that.” 

Andrew remained silent, finding satisfaction in Riko’s irritation. There was a laziness in Andrew’s frame, in the way he held the gun, that he had practiced over years of having others take power from him. He knew what Riko wanted and was entertained enough to deny it and watch the results rather than kill him outright. 

Riko switched tactics so abruptly that it made his words even more venomous. 

"I hear the Gunners are heading for that settlement you seem to be so fond of," Riko said, almost absentmindedly. "What is it called again? Sanctuary?" 

At the mention of the Gunners Andrew felt that foreign pang of fear that colored his childhood. It had been years since he'd met them head on, and that hadn't been an accident.

“Are the Gunners doing the dirty work you’re too afraid to do now?” Andrew tutted. “Master Moriyama probably wouldn’t be too pleased with that. Hope word doesn’t travel back to DC.” 

Andrew saw the restraint it took for Riko’s face not to twist at the mention of his uncle. He made as if to snarl something particularly hateful, but was distracted by a sudden audience as a settler emerged from the cabin. The voice of the man had Riko dropping his gun in an instant. Jean followed just as quickly. 

“Elder Moriyama,” the man said into the darkness. He was barely three steps out of his doorway. “We are wondering if you might make an announcement on the radio.”

Riko side-stepped into the sliver of light cascading from the opening in the cabin. 

“Of course,” he said without a moment’s hesitation. His voice was light, congenial even. Andrew kept his gun pointed at the back of his head, but Riko barely seemed to notice. “Our paladins have already sent out communications on our channels, but alerting the Commonwealth that this distress call has been resolved is the Brotherhood’s top priority.” 

A string of words seeped in gratitude flowed from the man’s mouth as Riko moved towards the house. He didn’t bother to turn around and deal with Andrew or Kevin, and he didn’t beckon for Jean. 

Before he chased after Riko, Jean moved forwards towards Kevin and whispered something low and rough. Kevin let out a small clucking noise with his tongue and turned his chin away without a word. Andrew couldn’t hear what Jean had said but it wouldn’t be a problem. Kevin would spill this and more once they returned to Goodneighbor. Andrew was cashing in on those secrets Kevin had been so hell-bent on hiding from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Neil finds Kellogg (uh-oh). Warning for hella bloodshed. 
> 
>  
> 
> Small note on the Brotherhood hierarchy. Elder is the title for their leader. In game the leader of the Brotherhood currently occupying Boston is Elder Arthur Maxson. In the case of the this crossover, the Boston unit (which is basically the Ravens) has Elder Riko Moriyama. The Master comment Andrew makes is just to keep it familiar with the lingo of the books and keep it distinct from Riko. But to be clear: the Brotherhood is not Boston specific. It was created out West, and was brought East starting in the Capital Wasteland (ie DC). There's a whole bunch of information that I am skipping here, but it isn't relevant to this story. Especially because I'm kind of diverging hardcore from Fallout canon with this.


	12. Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Neil finds Kellogg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title (like all the ones in this story) comes from the title of one of the Fallout 4 quests. But this one actually stick with the quest in-game!

Neil had survived on instinct this long, even if it was his mother who had been pulling the reigns. So, he trusted his gut when he felt the air shift around Fort Hagen. If Dogmeat’s soft keening and digging at the entrance were any indication, Kellogg was inside. It had been a long trail west from Cambridge Polymer labs, with only a few brief stops for rest. Dawn was breaking over the expanse of the large building, and Neil had a small window if he wanted to utilize the element of surprise.

He dropped to one knee and held Dogmeat’s face between his hands.

“Good boy,” he said. Dogmeat looked up with his wide brown eyes and licked at Neil’s nose, soothing a part of him he hadn’t realized he’d needed soothed. “Going from my own here, alright? Won’t do me any good having you set off traps inside or getting hurt. Off you go.”

He patted Dogmeat’s side before digging out the last chunk of Radstag from his pack and handing it over. Dogmeat didn’t go for it immediately, letting out a low groan and licking Neil’s nose once more instead. But it didn’t last long. Dogmeat grabbed the food from Neil and started off towards the gate when it was clear he understood what Neil had said.

Fort Hagen wasn’t the most menacing building, but what it lacked in intimidation it more than made up for in security. The encampment of the pre-war military base was surrounded by a chain-link fence, thick barbwire running along the top. Small metal signs were tacked to the fence every fifty meters or so reading: GOVERNMENT PROPERTY NO TRESPASSING.

Knowing that recklessness was equated with death, Neil did a quick perimeter sweep before checking the exterior to examine the structural components. Two entrances—a hatch on the roof and a basement door in the carpark below the fort. All other doors had been barricaded off with cinderblocks, sheets of metal, and thick wood planking. It was a smart move for someone who was unafraid of who came after them, to isolate all potential entrance paths. It wasn’t a move Neil would have made, but Neil couldn’t say he knew what it was to not be afraid of people finding him. As the top mercenary, working for the Butcher no less, Neil knew that Kellogg was bound to be more entertained than afraid when someone came knocking on his door.

Not liking the odds of open-air exposure on a two-story building, Neil counted off windows and tried once more to create a mental layout of the fort before bringing himself down towards the parking garage. The cars were all abandoned, but Neil was thorough in his sweep, double checking to be sure no one was hiding in any of the blind spots the twists of the carpark provided. He even went so far as to scan underneath and inside the rubble of the rusted vehicles. Once he was sure that no danger awaited him outside, Neil made quick work of unlocking the door at the back of the covered lot to enter the building.

His lock picks were the only thing he’d kept from the duffle bag he used to carry with him. The binder was useless once he learned the fate of the world from Dan, and none of the clothing compared to the versatility of the vault suit. It took the nuclear apocalypse for all of his minimal possessions to be rendered useless, and Neil still wasn’t sure if that was depressing or not.

As he held the lock picks in his hands he tried and failed to recall the last time he’d used them. Was it in Sanctuary Hills, with his mother? Did they use them to enter the vault somehow?  _No,_  he remembered,  _getting into Vault 111 was a manner of careful stealth work, not breaking and entering._  Maybe in Chicago? Or had it always been his mother to do the work, not trusting his hands to save them?

Neil hesitated once more before pushing the door open. He had unlocked it. There was nothing to do now but enter. There was nothing to do except to face Kellogg—if he was here.

As he crossed the threshold, the first thing Neil realized was that everything was concrete. It was perhaps the only reason the building was still standing after all this time. There was nothing else that was overwhelmingly distinguishing about the place. A stairway off to the left and a blue door straight ahead offered the only possible routes. Neil made his footsteps as quiet as he could go but couldn’t help but feel like a lab rat in a maze.

The feeling intensified as he tried and failed to break through the door. All the lock picking in the world was no match for the chains holding tight on the other side. Neil added the door to his mental map of the building and turned his back on it with only some hesitation. No other options meant Neil was taking the stairs.

It was four short flights up before he reached the next floor, and besides some old janitorial supplies on the second landing, there was nothing of use and no enemies in sight just yet.

Once Neil rounded the third landing, an automated voice echoed down the staircase.

“Hostile sensor reading detected.”

He pushed himself back into the wall and went still. The staircase continued just around the corner of the right wall Neil was pushed up against and there was an open door directly across leading to another hallway. With the landing opening up into a larger room there were three points of entry through which an enemy could be hiding, and Neil had no sight around the blind spot to figure out where they were coming from. He dropped to his knees, held his knife in a relaxed but ready grip, and hoped he could take their legs out before dragging them down the stairs.

“Kellogg’s secure facility: infiltrated. Termination: required.”

The voice drew closer, and seemed to sense Neil’s presence as it reached out around the corner towards Neil’s neck. It was faster than Neil anticipated. Cold metal fingers wrapped around his throat.

Its strength was impressive, and as Neil reached up to slice across its hand with his knife, the synth held tighter. It was all Neil could do but throw himself down the stairs to loosen its grip. The synth’s movements were clunky, unrefined and unnatural, but it raised an electric shock baton across Neil’s chest that sent him staggering back. The sharp sting of electricity and the fierceness of the blow had Neil letting out a low grunt. The blow did nothing to help his ribs, which were suffering once more from the force of the fall. As the creature raised his arm again to bring down another strike, Neil grabbed hold of its wrist and pulled him to the ground, pinning the synth underneath him in a quick maneuver of his legs.

Neil stared down at the synth, his breath catching in his throat. It would be a mistake to think that Neil had any understanding of popular culture references, in 2077 or now, but he also hadn’t been so naive to not know that this creature was something out of a sci-fi story. Nearly all the technology in his world had been modeled after the science fiction ideas of the 50s—fusion powered cars, domestic robots, portable computers—but it was stranger than almost anything he’d seen in the Commonwealth so far. Neil wrapped fingers around the wires looping from the synth’s head down to its neck, and pulled, watching the light flicker out of its eyes. To be sure the thing was dead, he brought the blade across the wires and severed its head from its body.

Neil waited a beat, trying to hear if anything else was coming for him, before he continued up the northeast staircase to reach the top floor.

Besides the seven synths greeting him at the top of the landing, the second floor was empty. He jumped as they fired the first shot, barely able to help himself as another synth snuck up behind him. Something about all of the exposed wiring was unnerving. Maybe it was the artificial quality Neil was unused to associating with his father, who had been sure to seep Neil in puncturing as much living flesh as possible. Or maybe it was seeing advanced technology in a post-apocalyptic world. Either way, Neil wasn't prepared to come face to face with synths. His only interactions had been with synths intent on helping him and besides, these synths looked even more primitive than Wymack. There was no skin, just wires and metal structures and large tubes encased under thick carbon fiber combat armor.

Neil dodged a shot from one of their guns, but just barely, and recognition that it wasn't bullets being fired had his movements more jolted and desperate. He grabbed a gun from a fallen synth and fired off five shots of the electric blue rays. High energy gamma wave laser guns, with shots so hot they burned along Neil’s forearm with each pull of the trigger. As four consecutive shots hit the body of the closest synth, the entire machine turned to ash—hot from the radioactive material, glowing blue, and steaming. There was nothing left but a pile of dust, and Neil wasn't sure how he felt about a gun that cremated its targets with gamma energy. Effective, for sure. He knew his mother would have killed to get her hands on one.  _No bodies._ She’d have been excited about that.

With the cover provided by the stairwell and the high-powered weapon in his hands, Neil killed off the other synths by taking effective well-timed shots and ignoring their automated voices. He just needed to keep his nerves in check, ignore the grating sound of artificial humans, and remember what it was to fire a gun without his mother at his back. The other synths were dispatched quickly, and with a brief sweep of the second floor, Neil headed back down the staircase.

The more steps Neil took throughout the building, the more anxiety blossomed in his chest. He had to keep reminding himself why he was there and what he was doing.

_They don't want me dead. They don't want me dead. They've kept me alive for this long. They need me for something._

The words were hardly a comfort no matter how frequently Neil repeated them in his mind. Every positive thought brought with it a negative and the steady beating of his heart seemed to mock him as a new phrase took root in his mind:  _This is a trap._

He pushed the thought from his mind, focused on counting, held his gun tighter to his body. Whoever was in this building already knew he was there. The gunfire hadn't been quiet, and Neil had no way of knowing what communication system was in place. The only way out was to clear the whole building, to find whatever information was being stored here. All he needed was to be one step closer to Kellogg. So he stayed, making his way down the narrow hallways, clinging desperately to the idea that Kellogg would give him answers, give him closure in some convoluted way.

It seemed the further into the building Neil ventured—past the reception area, through the former offices—the more holes were blown through the walls. Brick and debris was strewn everywhere. Papers and files and office supplies were scattered along the floor. It wasn’t unlike the other buildings in the Commonwealth, pillaged by scavengers and mercenaries and decaying from two hundred years with no need for upkeep. But there was something so undignified about the place that Neil had a hard time associating it with his father. The butcher would never have occupied a place as filthy and crappy as this one. There was extravagance in the Butchers moves, sure. Yet, even the darkest, seediest places his father conducted business, Neil knew were opulent.

Neil fought to remind himself that this world was different. He reminded himself that it was clear Kellogg had a connection with the Butcher, that the wasteland offered no luxuries and no laws. This was a different world, and one that the Butcher would have no problem adjusting to.

As he entered the final room off the back of the offices, his eyes narrowed immediately to the security gate in the far corner of the room. The locked cage housed all kinds of weaponry, a standard expectation in the middle of a military operation but an unlikely sight in the Commonwealth. A medical box offered bandages, antiseptic, and stimpaks, and ammunition boxes held dozens of cartridges of ammunition. If he survived, he could loot the place afterwards. For now, it was all quick sweeps and a staunch focus on playing defense.

There hadn’t been any alternative routes that Neil had seen in his sweep of the building. Everything led to this particular room, to this particular elevator. So, despite knowing it was a surefire method of securing and trapping any attackers, Neil stepped into the elevator. It was his only shot, and he was too deep into survival mode for any of the usual fear to drip into his movements. Fear would do him no good here, and his body seemed to know that. He was calm. He had been preparing for this kind of undertaking all those years he’d spent on the run. This was the only way to protect himself, the only way he could leave this place and resume his life.

It was seconds, really, before the doors were opening to a dimly lit hallway in the subbasement of the facility. Pipes, some as thick around as Neil’s waist, lined the walls, making the hallway feel smaller. Neil heard the automated movements of more synths seconds before he saw them, which was enough time to duck low and aim his gun.

Three synths, only one with a gun, started their attack. He got two shots to the synths head before it was shot clean off, rolling onto the grounds before disintegrating into dust. The body of the synth fell abruptly, as though it realized too late that its head was gone. Neil brought an open palm to the neck of the synth who was closest to charging him, absorbing a blow from a shock baton before pulling at the wiring of the synth’s neck. Small, barely distinguishable shocks of electricity ran through Neil’s fingertips as he waited for the machine to still. The final synth took one well-placed blow with the side of the Institute pistol to smash its head in. It shook with the force and discharged small ribbons of electricity, frying its circuits and seizing on the ground.

A door at the end of the hallway read FORT HAGEN COMMAND CENTER. It was locked, but not chained, and as Neil entered, he learned everything he needed to know about Kellogg’s whereabouts as his voice sounded over the intercom.

“You made it. You’re not as soft as one might suspect, Nathaniel.” Neil got the sense that Kellogg liked to play with his meal before he ate it. “I’m just through the doors in the back. My synths are standing down. You should come through and have a chat.”

An old bedroom was off to the side, most likely the former commanding officer’s living quarters. Neil searched under the bed and in the dresser drawers, but found nothing substantial. As he exited the room and continued down the hallway, the scent of lit cigars wafted through the air.

The doors in question were a double set of red wooden doors at the far end of a circular room filled with medical supplies. Surgical trays, hospital beds, packs of medicines and bandages, filled all of the empty space in the carpeted room. Neil resisted his urge to stuff everything into his pack. Looting was for after Kellogg was dead and after Neil got his answers.

The doorknob was cool as Neil wrapped his hand around it, but he didn't hesitate as he pushed through. There weren’t any lights on in the room as Neil entered, but one by one rows of lights overhead came on. It was true, what Kellogg had said, the synths were standing down. Neil didn’t relax, but he forced himself to radiate calm. Whatever game Kellogg was playing at, Neil would need to cooperate if he wanted answers.

He crossed the space in the room, mostly filled by the large computer stations that lined the walls, forcing his feet up and forward until he was standing across from Kellogg.

“You know, I thought I had the honor of being the most resilient man in the Commonwealth,” Kellogg said. His voice was the sandpaper Neil remembered, the long scar down the side of his face twitching as he spoke. It hurt to look into Kellogg’s eyes, knowing the same blue was being reflected back to him. “But you’ve managed to follow my breadcrumb trail all the way here.”

“I’m not here to talk,” Neil said, though it wasn’t exactly the truth. He felt twitchy, anxious to kill this man and get the fuck out of this place.

“Here to fight then, huh? Alright let’s give it a go. Just to keep it interesting, I’ll even give you a head start.” Kellogg spread his arms wide, motioning for Neil to take his shots. Neil didn’t hesitate as he fired his gun.

Neil had received combat training as a child, and his life on the run had trained him well for fighting, but he couldn’t deny he was at a disadvantage in the Commonwealth. Four synths and a known mercenary who had spent years staying alive in this post-apocalypse were too much for one person in close quarters like these. Neil managed a shot at Kellogg’s leg, but he barely even flinched. The gamma waves might burn through flesh but it took more than a few to turn a human body into ash. Two synths lie in dust a moment later, but Neil’s attention was too unevenly split. His uncertainty on where to shoot next provided enough time to have the other two synths pounce on him and wrestle him to the ground.

It wasn’t dignified, Neil’s fighting style. It was the desperate scrapping of a desperate boy, and it didn’t even matter in the end. He was restrained on the nearest flat surface, thin cuffs of leather holding his wrists tight against the underside of the table.

“I found your holotape, in your safe house at Diamond City. Why does the butcher want me alive?” Neil shouted out. If he was going to die, he wanted to at the very least know why. He couldn’t make Kellogg talk, but he had to at least try. Try to find answers. Try to bide his time. Try to look for an opening.

“Snooping around where you’re not supposed to.” Kellogg unsheathed a knife from his thigh. “You know thats against the rules, Nathaniel. Don’t you remember anything from Baltimore?” 

“You killed my mother, kept me alive. What is subject ten? Why am I alive?”

“Oh, pretending to care now? That’s unlike you, isn’t it? Wasn’t the whole point of running using anyone you had to to stay alive? Admit it: you are glad that she is dead. You’re glad that it is you calling the shots instead of that whore. You’re finally taking control of your life, Nathaniel. If it wasn’t so fucking stupid, it would be the bravest thing you’ve ever done.”

"What does the butcher want with me?" Neil demanded, ignoring Kellogg’s taunts. Here he was, restrained and laid bare before one of his father’s men, and he had the nerve to be defiant. Neil almost hated that he couldn’t keep his own mouth shut. Fear flooded through him. How, how for the love of god, had he made it this far? He bit down hard on his cheek, hoping the pain would bring with it a surge of self-preservation.

The laugh Kellogg let out was low—as familiar as it was dangerous. "You don't get it, do you? You stupid, pathetic—“ Kellogg took a few steps closer to him, pointing at Neil accusatorially with a shining blade. It played along Neil’s chest, tracing down to his arm. The blade slid under the fabric of his suit, biting into his skin. Blood pooled as the knife moved closer to the restraints around Neil’s wrists.

It was the opening Neil had been looking for, the moment of stillness he needed to surprise Kellogg in the midst of what was likely to be a monologue and the beginnings of torture. Neil’s movements worked against his best interest as he threw what little force he had in the restraints against the side of the table. It toppled over under the sudden shift in weight, forcing Kellogg back and the knife down. The blade tore at the restraints, but also at the long tendon on the side of his wrist. As Neil rolled out flat onto his stomach, he lost all hope of using his hand, barely able to clench his it into a fist without searing pain shooting through his thumb. One-handed wasn’t ideal, but Neil had managed all kinds of escapes with severe injuries. As he rocked his uninjured fist into Kellogg’s teeth, he couldn’t help but feel little confident.

Neil wasted no time in bringing his foot to connect with Kellogg’s knee, guiding him down with a hand to his throat. Neil knew it was a victory, but it felt like a loss as he looked down at the man he had spent all this time hunting and found him smiling.

Kellogg didn't splutter in this new position, just spread his grin further, blood caking the surface of his teeth. He began to shake with a new set of laughter. Neil released his grip slightly, suddenly unsure, suddenly loosing all his nerve.

"I know you don't have it in you, junior." And he did know. His voice was so knowing,  _too_  knowing.

"Don't call me that." The words didn’t have the heat Neil wanted them to. There was something wrong. Something wrong, wrong, wrong, that hummed under Neil’s skin.

Kellogg's smile had a ferocity that almost had Neil reverting into a panic attack. It was too ruthless, too pleasure-filled to be anything other than—.

"Father." The word was a death sentence wrapped around his tongue. Every fear come to life. This was the horror of watching his death unfold before him. This was the terror of finally meeting his fear personified. It didn’t make sense. None of it made any sense. He knew his father, what he looked like, who he was. This wasn’t him, and yet Neil could feel it radiating off of Kellogg: The Butcher.

Panic spread through Neil's body—slow, sticking to the inside of his veins and pulling him under. He kept his hand as tight as he could around Kellogg’s neck, but his fingers weren’t working like they were supposed to. His entire body was sludge. Kellogg all but ignored Neil as he stood back on his feet, brushing his wrist aside with a swat of his hand. He loomed above Neil, a good five or so inches on the young man and Neil hated that he had to look up.

"You don't really have it in you to kill your father now, do you?" He grabbed Neil’s hand and thrust a blade into it, wrapping Neil’s fingers around the handle. “Go on, then. Do it. Stab me right in the chest.”

"You're lying,” Neil shouted. The words sounded false in his own ears, his voice too high, too desperate, too confused.

Kellogg threw his forehead forward into Neil's face, breaking his nose and causing him to lose his grip in one swift motion. He kicked hard at Neil's stomach as soon as he hit the ground and gave an extra kick before pressing his boot to Neil’s throat and stomping down.

"You know something, junior? I didn't know you had it in you, following me out here. But I always knew that you were too chicken-shit to kill me." His words were steady, but there was no mistaking the pure glee in anticipation of cutting up his son. “Do you know why that is? It’s because I’m invincible. I’m unkillable. And you’ve always known that, haven’t you?”

Neil’s eyes were wide, wild with confusion and fear and disbelief. He couldn’t speak, not with the weight on his throat, not with the shock on his tongue, but it didn’t seem like it mattered. Kellogg was set on providing the answers, on dangling them out one by one. His words were so slow they had Neil wishing he would just get on with it, get on with the torturing and the killing. Death was a guarantee where his father was concerned, and Neil just wanted it done with already. He deserved that at least, to not have to wait any longer. 

“Now, I wouldn’t say that I am  _exactly_  your father. You know, the Institute made quite a few of me. Nothing like implanting memories into someone else’s brain to keep yourself living forever.” He tapped the side of his head, indicating some invisible process that had his father living in the mind of this strange man. “But I  _know_ you, Nathaniel. The Butcher and I, we are the same. I feel the same things, want the same things. Make no mistake here, boy. I  _am_  your father. And I am every bit as prepared as he was to tear you apart.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so…was that?? was that horrible?? 
> 
> so so so much anxiety about posting this chapter. honest feedback time: is it shit? bc like, wow throwing in a “luke I am your father” moment could for real be shit if its not done right. So, is this hella sudden? hella confusing? As much as I am anxious about feedback, I need ittttttt. 
> 
> ik i promised a lot of blood, and i keep forgetting until I sit to write that the blood is coming in chpt 14 (next Neil chapter) when he and Kellogg work this little awk situation out. I forgot that its synths in this chapter, and gen 1 synths don’t bleed so…instead of blood you just got flaming blue piles of ash…sorry bout it. also ik the exposition is heavy. with just neil and some synths i hope it wasn’t boring to read my endless descriptions of an old fort. :/ 
> 
> next update by wednesday evening. Andrew’s POV as he deals with the Gunners (yet another faction in the Commonwealth), his past, and protecting Sanctuary. A small reunion of all the foxes, yay! Poor kids are clueless as to what is happening to their Neil. To be fair, they’ve got their hands full with the whole Riko sanctioned attack. 
> 
> with the new update, I will be going back through previous chapters (including this one) and cleaning them up. I wanted to have something to post tonight, so the edits are V rough. so again, anything that you can point out will be greatly appreciated :) this whole story is unbeta’d and just like really rough, so feedback is super super helpful! 
> 
> gracias por todos los comentarios y kudos!!! :)


	13. Operation Ticonderoga

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Andrew's lot heads to the Railroad safehouse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! This is a wee little chapter, mostly filler. But I just needed a little Andrew/Renee sparring in my life after writing Neil's upcoming chapter. Poor kid is angst and panic and anxiety from head to toe. 
> 
> I cannot--repeat:CANNOT--express how amazing all the feedback was on the last chapter. So glad that people are excited about all the potential with the whole Kellogg synth-Nathan thing! I am similarly V excited. There is just so much growth I hope to bring to Neil's character regarding that. 
> 
> That's all for now. Here you go:

“Ticonderoga.” 

It was the first word out of Kevin’s mouth in four miles. 

Nicky stopped his discussion with Aaron and strained his neck in an attempt to get a look at Kevin’s face.

Renee placed a hand on Kevin’s shoulder. “That’s where we are heading now. We’ll regroup at the safe house and head to Sanctuary after much needed rest.” 

“My body is calling out for a bed,” Nicky said, coming up next to Renee to drop an arm on her shoulder. 

Renee smiled. “Just half a mile further.” 

“Those may be the sweetest words you’ve said all day.” Nicky grinnned, followed quickly by a yawn. He fell back to pester Aaron, leaving Andrew and Renee to take point, Kevin sandwiched between the two of them. 

Andrew hummed to himself, any annoyance that he had to take his chems long gone now that they were coursing through his system. 

After the Augusta safe house had been compromised a few months back, the Railroad had moved its headquarters to the Old North Church. Ticonderoga was now the largest safe house outside of the main city of Boston. It offered the most supplies and the most protection, but Andrew knew that Renee didn’t like how exposed it was. The tallest building in the area, it made them vulnerable. And for a safe house designed to protect runaway synths from a Commonwealth that demonized them, that was hardly ideal. As the four story building came into view, Renee moved back from Kevin’s side to address the men behind her.

“Nicky, if you wouldn’t mind keeping it down a bit?” she asked softly. She was all business, adjusting her gaze through her night vision scope, but even fear of ambush couldn’t phase her politeness. 

“Yeah. Sorry, Renee. Get a little chatty when I’m tired.” 

“Not just when you’re tired,” Aaron said. 

“Thanks, Nicky,” she said, moving up ahead of Andrew to lead the group around the narrowing streets. 

They hadn’t had any means of communication to radio to the safe house, so they walked in blind. The operations were housed in the upper floors and the basements, and while the ground floor gave every impression that it was just another abandoned building, the security to get into the levels that were actually in use was severe. So severe in fact that Railroad agents who weren’t on direct orders to Ticonderoga were intentionally kept out of the dark, regardless of their ranking. 

After the third failed attempt at entering passcodes into the terminal, Renee sighed and headed back to the lobby. She brought out the radio from behind the front desk and went to work setting it up in an attempt to communicate with the upstairs. It was several minutes of connecting pieces and messing around with radio signals before she finally attempted contact. 

Andrew made himself busy pulling apart different pre-war objects he found scattered around the lobby: a desk fan, a clock, pens. He collected the screws, gears, and springs in his pockets as he went. 

“Matt,” she sighed in relief as his voice finally answered back with the proper calling code. “Andrew, Kevin, Aaron, Nicky and I are downstairs. Can you send the elevator down?” 

Renee dismantled the radio after Matt’s confirmation and tucked everything out of sight. 

They rode the elevator to the third floor, and as the doors opened Andrew couldn’t deny that the safe house was looking less like a haven and more like a slaughterhouse. 

A dozen synths, all gen 3, were nestled on cots around the room, each in various wounded states. They were mostly adults, though there were two synth boys who looked no older than ten at the very back of the room. The room was mayhem, and with Matt as the only Railroad operative tending to things it was easy to see why. 

“Where’s Neil?” Nicky asked, as he scanned the faces in the room. 

Matt let out an embarrassed sort of shrug. “Hasn’t come back yet. I told him to radio if he needed anything, or just for an update, but…” The rest of his sentence dropped off. Matt rubbed at his bicep a little nervously. Andrew found it odd that Matt, that everyone really, cared so much about Neil. 

Was it not obvious to them that this kid reeked of trouble? Did they not care, or were they so stupid they didn’t notice? Andrew was leaning towards the latter, but it still didn’t account for the ferocity that everyone was putting into caring about him. It was fascinating. Andrew supposed if Neil ever did come back it would be entertaining to watch him spin his lies and have everyone else eat them up. 

It had crossed his mind more than once that Neil would split after learning whatever he did from Kellogg. Spending five minutes in the same room as the kid had been enough for Andrew to know he was itching to get out of the Commonwealth. If finding Kellogg was the only reason he was staying, then why would he bother to stick around after finding him? 

Andrew allowed his thoughts to drift towards the possibility that Neil did stay, considering whether that move alone was enough to be suspect. If he found Kellogg, there were only two ways to make it back alive. He’d either have to strike a deal with the merc or kill him, and Andrew honestly couldn’t decided which would be harder for Neil to pull off. 

“What needs to be done?” Renee asked Matt as she walked further into the room. Her movement seemed to break whatever spell the other men were under, as they shuffled further into the space. Kevin’s eyes swept through the room once again, his gaze never lingering directly on any of the synth. 

“Everything,” Matt said with a sigh. 

One look around the room confirmed it. Whoever these synths were, they hadn’t made it back to this safe house easily. Thick puddles of blood saturated the floors, a mess of dirty bandages, extracted bullets, and empty stimpaks were stacked on the long metal table between the two rows of beds. Several synths were still waiting to be treated. With only Matt to do the work, they tried their best to keep their painful moans to themselves. 

“Aaron I could use your help with their wounds,” Matt said. 

Aaron rid himself of his gun and his armor, rolling the sleeves of this shirt to get to work. He grabbed the tools from the table and began speaking to the first synth waiting, a woman with a bullet wound in her shoulder. His voice was quiet but firm, and he didn’t hesitate for a second to cut open her skin and get to work. 

Andrew, for lack of anything better to do, explored the floor. There wasn’t much to it, but the drugs begged his body for some kind of entertainment. The chemistry station in the far back of the room was a mess. Mixtures of half formulated medicines threatened to bubble over their respective beakers. Andrew walked over without waiting for instruction and moved the vials around, poking around to see what supplies they had on hand. When he found the boxes of hub flowers and antiseptic he made quick work of dropping the approbate liquids into stimpak syringes. It was quick work, easy work at that, and something Andrew had picked up from hanging around Abbie. He boiled everything to the appropriate levels before bottling them off. 

Nicky and Kevin were a bit more resistant in moving. 

“Nicky, maybe you can join me in speaking with those who have already received medical attention?” Renee asked softly. 

Nicky nodded, feeling more at ease in his natural element. Andrew could see the way the blood was making him sweat. 

Kevin made annoying rounds around the room before finally ending at the map along the back wall. Andrew was content to ignore him until he finished the last of the stimpaks. 

When he was finished, he took up a seat behind Kevin, bringing his legs up to rest his wrists around his ankles. He waited as patiently as he could for Kevin to sense him, refusing to speak first on principal. It didn’t take long. Barely 48 seconds, for Kevin to become annoyed. 

“You could be useful instead of sitting there,” he said. “We need information.” 

“Speak with the synths, then,” Andrew said. “Maybe they will know something.” 

Kevin made a grumbled sound, but conceded it was a good plan. Bedside manner, however, Kevin did not have. It only took about five minutes into his conversation with the first man for his words to turn cold and ruthless. 

Andrew wanted nothing to do with it, even as he watched from his perch a few feet away. The man apparently didn’t want anything to do with it either. 

“We are trying to recover here. I’m sure you understand that we don’t remember anything from our time in the Institute. Failsafes in our hardwiring take care of that. As far as our escape, we can only thank the Railroad. It was mayhem and I think its possible for even you to comprehend that the details are fuzzy when you’re escaping,” he said after a particularly terse comment from Kevin. 

“Fuzzy doesn’t have us helping more of you people now does it?” 

“Don’t take it personally,” Andrew quipped, interrupting Kevin’s words. This wasn’t nearly as fun as he had hoped it would be. “Kevin was conditioned to be an asshole. First thing they teach you in the Brotherhood.”

“What’s your excuse?” Kevin fired back. 

Andrew tapped the side of his head. “Bad wiring.” 

Kevin couldn’t quite hide his look of disgust at Andrew’s implication. Andrew wasn’t a synth, but the suggestion was enough to have Kevin taking a step back instinctively. 

“Pro tip: take off your power armor,” Andrew said, turning away to look out the window to his right. “Makes the natives restless.” 

It was their constant back and forth, Kevin insisting Andrew do something while being too afraid to make any real moves himself, that had Andrew wanting to rock his fist into Kevin’s mouth as he stared at him incredulously. The fear Kevin allowed to control his life would be infuriating if Andrew was able to give enough of a shit to really care. Instead, Andrew was just left confused. Confused on why anyone would pour so much energy into caring about something in the Wasteland. Confused on how anyone thought they could actually make a difference. Hadn’t anyone taught the great Kevin Day how pointless it was?

But it was worse than that, _less_ than that, because Andrew could only barely bring himself to feel anything at all. It was less than anger, less than impatience when it came to Kevin. 

He hated these thoughts, but he knew there was no hope of silencing his brain with the drugs coursing through him. He took a quick look around the room, stopping as his eyes found Renee. She was organizing the medical supplies left out by Aaron and Matt, her movements deliberate and efficient. 

“We’re sparring,” Andrew said to her as he stood from his spot at the window. 

She didn’t allow a beat of silence to fill the room. “We can use the room on the fourth floor.” 

As they ascended the small staircase, Renee and Andrew got to work unclipping armor and preparing their tense muscles for the fight. It took a moment to deposit everything by the door, and Andrew was drawing her in for the fight immediately.

A foot to her back, that’s what sent Renee careening towards the floor and struggling to find purchase. She rolled quickly, but Andrew was there in the next moment with a kick to her stomach. Renee moved with it, using the momentum to draw herself up, before stepping back out of reach. Waiting for Andrew to make his next move gave Renee the breath she needed after having it knocked from her. A dozen scenarios flashed through her mind as she decided how best to prepare a counterattack for Andrew’s next move. It was a fist flying for an uppercut that gave her the opening she needed. 

She pulled his forearm forward, yanking him closer to bring the palm of her hand hard against his cheek. Releasing her hold on his arm in the next second, she used the momentum from her previous hit to push the palm of her left hand hard against his chest. The move sent him tumbling backward. She was jumping on top of him as he fell back, bringing her fist hard against his face in three successive blows. His nose broke like a levy during a flood and he spit his blood at her face as he drew a knife and dodged another hit. 

He swiped at her chest with the blade, cutting thick through her shirt and into her skin. Renee knocked the knife out of his grip with a firm backhand, but Andrew kicked at her stomach and sent her rolling backwards before she could land another hit. 

A feral wolf circling its prey. That’s how Andrew looked as he calculated his next move. Renee studied the tension in his frame, hopping on her feet a bit to stay limber as she waited to see if he was sticking with a defensive strategy or heading in for another blow. 

Andrew’s impatience betrayed him, and he was pulling at her shirt collar to bring Renee harder into the fist he had tensed for her stomach. The momentum brought her limbs limp, and Andrew threw another punch into her gut before twisted her around at an attempt to lock her in a choke-hold. 

It was a well-placed elbow to Andrew’s sternum that gave her the breathing room she needed to knock her fist against his ear and force him back into the wall. The move had him corned and vulnerable, two things Andrew had no interest in maintaining. 

But, Andrew—Andrew was fast on his chems. As fast as he was strong, and he was bringing a fist to her cheek with a force that cracked his fourth knuckle. He was throwing Renee over his shoulder and flat onto her back in the next moment, her arm twisting at an uncomfortable angle as he kneeled on her chest. 

“Reset,” he told her as he pushed away. 

She did so without another word, pulling her knife from her hip. It was longer than Andrew’s—a machete that she’d carried with her since arriving at the Railroad. It was her most trusted and bloodied blade, and Andrew grinned at the sight of it. 

Andrew dropped low, throwing his body left before coming back up to full height as Renee threw a lazy swipe across the air towards him. She caught her foot on his thigh and brought her knee up to connect with his jaw. The edge of her knife cut deep into his shoulder, but the move had her vulnerable, and in his speed, Andrew dug his knife in her bicep. 

She moved back before he could pull it out, but he chased after her, relentless in his attack. He brought his fist under her chin, knocking her head back. She was just a bit too slow in moving away, and the force of the punch had her stumbling a bit more than she usually allowed. 

“You’re holding tight on your uppercuts, too stiff,” she commented as she leaped out of the way of another punch—a hit aimed for her neck. 

“And you’re too slow on your feet.” 

They didn’t speak for the rest of their session, until Renee called time when Andrew stuck a particularly well-placed slice between her ribs. And after that, they still didn’t exchange a word. Not in their descent down the staircase, or their limping in the main room. They were bruised, bleeding, and panting, and neither gave a shit about playing into the other’s usual pretenses. 

It was in front of the medicine cabinet that Kevin took in the sight of the two of them and stalked over. He was out of his power armor, but the sour look on his face was back. 

“You shouldn’t waste stimpaks on wounds that are self-inflicted,” he said as he watched Renee dig through the medical supplies. 

“It’s not a waste,” Renee said. “It’s practice. That’s what makes us good soldiers, don’t you think?” 

“That’s assuming you are good soldiers,” Kevin muttered as he turned away. 

Renee continued dealing with their wounds, examine each cut to see if one stimpak would be sufficient. In the end it was. The blood stopped, the bruises faded, and the soreness in their bones dulled. 

Although she lightly chided Andrew to get some sleep before walking away, he knew that she would stay awake until morning, moving through the house to check in with each of the synths. 

Andrew occupied himself with cigarettes and ignoring Kevin, who spent his time trying desperately not to descent into a breakdown from the interaction with Riko. He wouldn’t stay still, and his restless movements kept floating in Andrew’s peripheral. He was too engrained in his distrust of synths to address any of them directly, and with the only other humans sleeping, Kevin was left with limited options.

“Sweeping the perimeter,” he told Andrew. 

And he did, making slow circles outside of the building with Andrew trailing lazily behind him. Andrew happened to break a new personal record when it came to how many rocks he kicked that morning. His mind drifted from topic to topic in the haze of his drugs, but his feet kept steady. As he searched for his next rock, he considered how long Kevin might keep us his ‘perimeter sweep’. 

It was morning officially now, the bottom of the sun finally rising above the horizon. While surely everyone wanted to sleep more, they would be leaving soon for Sanctuary. The Gunners would be arriving within the next few days, if Riko was to be trusted in any capacity. Kevin didn’t seem to think he was bluffing, and frankly Andrew didn’t either. Riko was too set on destruction not to send Gunners in hopes of getting a rise from Andrew. Although what he honestly thought he could do to hurt him, Andrew didn’t know.

It was during his consideration of exactly how much radiation it would take to turn oneself into a ghoul that Kevin stopped short and turned to address Andrew. 

“What made you decide to let Josten stay?” 

It was a strange question coming from Kevin. Andrew realized a second after it was in the air between the two of them that there was something different ghosting in Kevin’s voice—something Andrew couldn't identify. 

Andrew owed Kevin no answers, especially not when he’d wasted his time all morning. He wagged a finger at him instead, hoping to draw a maximum amount of entertainment from their interaction as possible. “You’re not having second thoughts are you? Use that wildly strategic brain of yours, paladin. Figure it out yourself, or make up a theory. Get creative. Let your imagination soar. Do whatever the fuck you want.” 

“I’m being serious.” 

“Yes, that’s what is making you so annoying.” 

Andrew continued walking the path they’d been tracing. 

“How did he convince you to let him stay?”

Andrew didn’t have the patience to point out to Kevin that no one convinced him of anything. Instead he focused on irritating Kevin. It was so fun to watch him crumble under the pressure of being told no. 

“I’ll just rattle off a few conspiracy theories and you can let me know which one you decide fits, yeah?” Andrew asked. “Neil Josten conspiracy theory number 39: Neil Josten is an alien. He used his fancy Pip-Boy to take over my mind and forced me to let him stay.” 

“Because you saw him as a threat before the Combat Zone. So what did he say to you there that made you change your mind?” Kevin said, ignoring Andrew’s antics. 

“Neil Josten conspiracy theory number 07: Neil Josten is a ghoul with impeccable plastic surgery. He convinced me he could show me the ways to immortality, and I, being the ghoul devotee that I am, agreed.” 

“This is an actual matter.” 

“Theory number 52,” Andrew said in the best version of his radio announcer voice, effectively cutting off Kevin’s protests. “Neil Josten is _the_ grenade guy. So overwhelmed, I was, at meeting the infamous man who scares away opponents by shouting out fake grenade sounds and pretending to ride on a motorcycle, that I chose to keep him around for sheer entertainment value.” 

Andrew had to admit their game did a pretty good job of keeping him entertained and Kevin annoyed, which really was an ideal outcome. 

“Any of those strike your fancy, Day? As you can tell from the numbering system, there are an abundance to choose from.” 

“If he is a danger to us, you have to tell me,” Kevin demanded. 

“Kevin, I have to admit this change in your tune sure has me worried.” Andrew turned to face him. “Why the sudden shift, huh? You beg, beg, beg me to keep him, and now what? You think I made the wrong call? Either you know something I don’t know, or you are questioning my judgement.” 

Kevin was silent but Andrew knew it wasn’t for a lack of things to say. Kevin was trying to choose his words carefully

“Do we need to toss him out?” Andrew asked.

“I don’t know yet.” 

“Do we need to kill him?” 

“I don’t know yet.”

“Whatever you are keeping from me, stop. It does you no favors to keep tight lipped. I shouldn’t even have to remind you of that. What did Jean say to you?” 

Andrew had planned to take care of everything in Sanctuary before bothering to question Kevin. Kevin would be a mess until he could be put into action anyway, and with the Gunners coming in to play, Andrew had the promises he’d made to himself to honor. But with Kevin seemingly so intent on letting information slip now, Andrew wasn’t about to let the opportunity pass. 

“Nothing of consequence,” Kevin said, but he wouldn't meet Andrew’s eyes.

“Keep your secrets, then—for now at least. See how much protection they offer you when Riko comes knocking next time.” 

As they looped around the safe house once more, Kevin stopped. He squinted into the horizon, leaning forward a bit at a poor attempt to get a better view. When Andrew turned his attention he understood why. A very familiar German Shepard was heading for them. Andrew kicked the closest rock with particular vigor as Kevin let out a low curse. Neil Josten was no where in sight.

"We might need a different theory, huh Kevin?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might be thinking: "Hey, I thought this whole ‘we are suspicious of Neil Josten’ shtick has already been resolved. Isn’t that what Columbia was for?"
> 
> To which I would respond: Yes, my darling reader. But alas, Jean (therefore Riko) also knows about Neil Josten. Please, allow your imagination to run with the possibilities of what he said to Kevin in the previous Andrew chapter. 
> 
> You very well might also be thinking: "What the bloody hell? This is not the chapter I was promised—i.e. Sanctuary, fox reunions, Andrew’s past!! Wtf gladiatorgrl2703, you filthy liar??"
> 
> To which I would respond: You are not wrong! One thousand apologies are in order. However, consider for a moment if you wanted any of that to happen without Neil? I for one did NOT. Plus I may have remembered a bit late that travel time is something I actually have to consider here. As much as I’d love for Andrew’s lot to make it 20 miles before morning, it did not seem likely. 
> 
> With those two potential thoughts taken care of, let’s talk next chapter. Uh...shit's going to go down as we swing back to Neil. He’s in a tight spot that I’ve got to write him out of :) That's all I'm allowing myself to say about what's happening in the upcoming chapter. :) It is written (actually wrote that one before this chapter) but boy oh boy oh boy does it need heavy editing. I'm pretty sure just huge chunks of it don't make any sense at all, which obviously needs to be fixed. 
> 
> If it isn't obvious by now, the days I put up for when I'm going to update are more of...inspiration?? as opposed to a strict schedule?? Hope that isn't terribly annoying, but it is my hope/goal that I have a new chapter by earliest wednesday! If I don’t put them down, I will never find the strength to write the next chapter, let me assure each of you. Guilt keeps me writing! 
> 
> oh, oh. if you are thinking "who the f is the grenade guy?" Fun bit of game insight for you. He is referenced by a group of raiders, apparently he relies solely on creating sounds of grenades to survive the commonwealth. no lie! if you are curious about the interaction here’s a little youtube clip: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WFn1VshqCiQ Also, all of the NJ conspiracy theories are a part of lore in game. Thought it would be a fun element, but it may just be stupid hahaha. Either way, it made it in! 
> 
> please keep commenting, I swear I live on a steady diet of your feedback, caffeine, and cigarettes. Gotta keep all the major food groups in check. Y’all have been great about that, plus the kudos, I cannot thank you enough!


	14. Butcher's Bill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Neil fights Kellogg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. It is here. The much hyped (possibly overhyped) Neil facing Kellogg chapter. I am very excited, and very proud, about what is posted below. Feedback on this is extra appreciated, especially if it is specific to helping me improve the chapter. I want to keep writing better and better stuff for you guys :) 
> 
> WARNING: If blood, detailed imagery regarding injuries, dismemberment, panic attacks or other gory features are triggering, may I suggest possibly skipping this chapter? I would be happy to send anyone who is uncomfortable with any of these a very vague breakdown of what happens along with all relevant dialogue and Neil's inner monologue. Please practice selfcare and reach out if you'd rather skip this guy :) 
> 
> Wow wow wow. Rewrote this chap several times--especially after realizing Neil would have bled out in like three seconds from some of the original wounds I had him sustaining. If you are in anyway involved with medicine or you have sustained injuries similar to ones described here and something is hella wrong, please please correct me. It it so important to me that it feels real and is also within the realm of reality. Obviously with the stimpaks we are stepping outside of the possibilities of medicine, but for the other stuff please let me know. Some of the injuries are based on my own experiences but most of them are a healthy mix of the blood carnival that is my mind and far too many action movies, so feedback is SO appreciated. 
> 
> General anxieties on posting this, especially bc I hyped it up so much. Here's to hoping it delivers! Lots of joy went into writing this one for you guys. Hope y'all like it! 
> 
> Also: I love when you all give me recs on how you’d like certain things to go. But for this chapter specifically, view it as more of a work in progress than a finished chapter!!! Want more blood? Request it! Want more angst? Request it! Think of something else that isn’t included here? Let me know! This story gets better every time one of you lovely readers suggests something so please don’t be afraid to reach out!

Neil’s fingers gripped along Kellogg’s ankle and shin, rolling his shoulders into the pressure of the grown man on his throat. With a shove of everything he had, Neil managed to free himself of Kellogg’s hold. Kellogg laughed as he stumbled away and Neil knew it wasn’t his strength that had gotten him off his chest. He’d seen men crawl away from his father, attempts at escape so feeble Nathan didn’t even bother to chase them. This was one of those moments. 

Neil was up quickly, assessing the area and his options. Even the synths were relaxed in a way that made Neil seethe. He tried to reach for a quip, but his words were failing him for the first time he could remember. It was too much to process, all of this insanity of new information in this new world with this new version of his father before him, and his brain was struggling to decide what to prioritize. 

Even through the pressure of a clenched hand around his wrist, Neil was losing blood rapidly. It dripped through his fingers and fell down the side of his pants, fell down onto the floor even as he took steps back from Kellogg. Hot blood oozed down the back of his throat, stinging with the discomfort of trying to breathe through a broken nose.

His wrist was shot to hell. And even in his panic Neil was able to assess this much. He’d always been particularly good at recognizing the exact moment he was fucked. _Of all the things to do, Abram. Your hand?_ He wasn’t sure if the thought was his mother’s or his own. It was a rare moment where the two converged around the axis of Neil’s stupidity. 

Neil supposed he should feel thankful that it wasn’t his dominant hand, but his mind was sifting through too many thoughts to hold down and focus on any one thing for too long. 

Instead, he dropped low to the ground, his knees loose and his body nimble. Instinct, that was what he needed if he was going to get out of this. No thoughts, no words, just movements. 

“What are you possibly going to do?” Kellogg taunted, eyeing Neil lazily.

He was leaned casually against the large mainframe of a pre-war computer, balancing a thin breaking knife, curved with the intensity of a Wesninski smirk and ten inches long. It wasn’t the cleaver his father normally sported, but Neil wasn’t naive enough to be confused. He saw the calm nonchalance with which Kellogg held the blade. If Neil didn’t find a way to escape that would be the first knife in a long and torturous series.

Kellogg was right, Neil had almost no options, but Neil ignored his words and flicked his gaze between the synths. Impatience twitched down his legs, a steady stream of _move, move, move,_ clouding his mind. Still, Neil managed to stay locked in place. He was already inured, he didn’t need another disadvantage. 

First to draw, first to die. 

It was something he picked up from Lola, when his father had put her in charge of his training. She had spent countless hours building desperation into Neil. Honing it so it became his way of being, playing on all the love he held for his mother and his desire to have friends and a normal life. Lola promised to stop their lessons if he would fight. And she continued cultivating that desperation in order to strip every ounce of it away. 

Once he was scrappy enough to do anything more than curl into a ball during a fight, that’s when she tried to beat every drop of desperation out of him, drain it dry with each of their combat lessons. Desperation, paranoia—these had been characteristics of his mother. His father was all formality, all apathy—professional through and through. And he wouldn’t have a son who was anything else. Lola was as much in charge of Neil’s knife work as she was of making him a Wesninski.

As Neil lunged forward he told himself for the hundredth time in his life that he was nothing like his father. Patience didn’t suit him, and he had no care for it.

He had no weapon—Kellogg had rifled through his pack and thrown it uselessly in the corner before strapping Neil down—but he still had one good hand. 

_If I can make it to my pack—make it to the switchblade,_ he thought as he moved a wide circle towards the back of the room. He didn’t honestly know what he thought would come after having a weapon in his hand, but he didn’t honestly care. A weapon brought him one step closer to surviving this encounter.

His movement was cut off almost instantly by the nearest synth, a sharp hand to his shoulder. But Neil didn’t stop. He slammed forward against the synth, keeping his momentum going despite the synth’s strong frame and harsh metal. The movement wasn’t quite enough to bring the synth down the ground, but it stumbled a bit, breaking its hold long enough for Neil to duck sideways. Desperately, Neil clawed at the wiring within the synths chest. A shock baton came down across his back, jolting his body so hard that blood rushed into his mouth as Neil bit down on his tongue. Neil continued desperately scratching and pulling at the tubes and thin wires until the synth fell next to him. The shock baton dropped from the synth’s hands and to the ground. Neil reached for it, and came up with a surge of victory spreading around his hand and through the handle. The move brought him a step closer to Kellogg, and from the corner of his eye he watched as Kellogg took the first swipe with his blade. 

A low grunt escaped Neil’s lips as Kellogg’s blade sliced up the length of his bicep, forcing him to drop the baton. It stung badly, the burn distracting enough that it slowed Neil’s footsteps. A kick at Neil’s ankle had him scrapping along the floor, fingers scraping aimlessly at the concrete below. 

The blade slid once more along the surface of Neil’s forearm. Kellogg’s knee was hard against his back, pinning him in place as the last synth took hold of his arms, even as Neil kicked desperately and writhed along the ground. He flopped as best he could, trying to gain momentum or attack power with his legs, but it was useless. Kellogg connected the slices he’d made into his arm with a zig-zag, strange stripes breaking through his flesh and oozing rich, red blood onto the ground. 

Kellogg dropped down low, crushing Neil’s ribs with his weight as he brought his lips against Neil’s ear. 

“I want to see your face as I cut you apart,” Kellogg said. His voice was calm, not fueled by rage or impatience. It was the closest thing to Nathan’s apathy Neil had seen of Kellogg yet. It scared the absolute shit out of him and rocked him motionless, so much so that his body was pliant as the synth turned him onto his back. 

It was with great effort that Neil brought his face to stone. He wasn’t sure how his body was supposed to react. Should he be breathing quickly? Deep panicked breaths that were impossible to stop? Or was he holding his breath, the moment his father first cut into him, his breathing locked into place with fear? He couldn’t remember—Neil couldn't remember how this was supposed to go. He’d imagined his death at his father’s hands so many times, and all of those images were failing him. Joining together, evolving into something else. He’d made a vow to himself that he would play things out a certain way. That the last moment he lived would be _his_ even as his father took it from him. But everything was wrong and he didn’t remember how to make it right. 

He didn't saying anything, Kellogg, as he cut into Neil. But he did stop every so often, holding his thumb to his bottom lip like he’s appraising a rare art piece. Neil supposed the mess of blood laid out on the concrete floor might be the masterpiece Nathan Wesninski has been waiting 220 years to create. 

Each new cut was a strange comfort for Neil. A slice along the front of his thigh, a ribbon of skin flayed along the base of his hip, a thin scratch below his neck. Each brought with it the warm embrace of being one step closer to death. But he knew his father’s process and knew these first cuts weren’t meant to hurt. Not really, anyway. The pain would be saved for later. For now, Kellogg was playing with his food, reminding Neil of the ways he knew how to make a body sing. 

He should be running. He should be trying to move, somehow. There was a synth pinning his arms to the floor, Kellogg’s weight across his stomach, but there weren’t any chains. He wasn’t bound in any substantial way. There wasn’t any reason for Neil to have stopped fighting, and yet he had. Fear of his father paralyzing him once again. 

Kellogg brought his knife harder along the front of Neil’s chest—a deeper cut to accompany his first question. 

“Latest intel says you’re running around with Kevin Day. Tell me, what are you doing with the Brotherhood’s right hand man, anyway?”

“Looking for you,” Neil ground out as Kellogg slid the knife back under the fresh wound he’d created. 

“That doesn’t seem to be a deal Kevin’s little resistance troupe would care about.” The blade dragged lazily along Neil’s body, until Kellogg slipped underneath the flesh of his shin, flaying off a ribbon of skin. He dangled it in front of Neil’s face as the hot burn shot up through his kneecap, dropping it on his chin before speaking. “They aren’t even here to protect you. Why are you protecting them?” 

“How would I even be protecting them?”

“Tell me about the Brotherhood’s plans against the Institute.” Neil felt the subtle shift in the conversation, but he wasn’t sure if they were talking about the same thing anymore. Was Kellogg implying that Kevin’s lot knew about the Brotherhood’s plans? Was Kellogg assuming that they had told Neil? Did the Brotherhood even have solid plans against the Institute? These were strange intricacies that Neil wasn’t privy to, and frankly ones that he had no interest in. 

“Just kill me already. I don’t know anything about the Brotherhood and I don’t care.” 

Kellogg laughed. “C’mon, junior. You know you don’t deserve a clean death.” He traced a circle around Neil’s kneecap. Neil’s hips bucked up at the cold feel of it, heat already beginning to sear through the center of his knee in anticipation of the pain to come. “Besides, you know quick, painless deaths aren’t really the Butcher’s style.”

“You talk too much to be my father,” Neil spat. 

“That’s what makes me _so_ special. All the butcher knowledge in all this wasteland packaging.” 

Kellogg cut off Neil’s reply the moment he hedged the tip of his knife into Neil’s knee, sliding between the bones to reach the tendons underneath. It stuck out from his skin in a wholly unnatural way. Neil let out a shout of pain and fierce grunts as Kellogg wiggled the blade back and forth. He continued playing with it—rotating it around, flicking it to send sharp vibrations down and through the bones—until he finally brought his palm over the handle of the blade. 

He looked right at Neil, waiting until Neil returned his heavy gaze. 

“For running,” he said. 

His scream was soundless, lodged in a throat constricted by pain, as Kellogg brought a fist over his palm to slam the blade down. The tip of the blade hit the ground, slicing through the ligaments and tendons and arteries in a chunky disjointed motion. Searing hot pain ran along the side and over across his kneecap, the muscles in Neil’s thigh twitching in resistance. Neil wished for another injury he knew wouldn’t come, something to distract him from this current agony. Anything, anywhere else. He tried his best to distract himself with daydreams of injuries he’d seen his father inflict on others: a slit to the achilles, thick gashes along the insides of arms, fierce chops down as entrails pooled out of a grown man’s guts. He wished for them—each of them, all of them, any of them. 

“Shall we do the other, or keep it interesting?”

It was a rhetorical question. Not that Neil was in any position to answer.

Kellogg brought a new, smaller knife down Neil’s shin, slicing shallow horizontal lines as he moved further down. As he reached Neil’s ankle he cut at across the top of it, and took a moment to move close and examine the slice before sticking his finger in, wiggling the digit along his joints. 

Neil bit hard on his lip to keep from screaming, fighting the urge as much as possible to squirm. Each time he moved to get away from Kellogg’s touch, Kellogg pushed harder, the fidgeting only driving more pain shooting through Neil’s foot. Still, it was hard to fight the reflex to shy away, harder still to keep quiet. Blood and spit pooled around Neil’s chin, hot salty tears mixing in with them before diving off down his neck. 

Neil took solace the only way he knew how—counting the seconds he had until he bled out. Even with the knife lodged in place at his knee, Kellogg had cut through a major artery at the back of his leg. The more cuts he made to Neil’s body, the faster Neil had hopes of bleeding out. 

“Keep it interesting,” Neil grit out, every effort to keep Kellogg going forcing the words from behind clenched teeth. If he could bait him to keep working, it would all be over soon. 

Kellogg pulled the knife from Neil’s knee and Neil was thankful, so supremely thoroughly thankful that he felt relief wash over him as his blood gurgled and spluttered and forced its way out of the wounds. It was another second before Kellogg was sliding it partly back into the wound, and even with the hot stinging and the immense pain that flooded his leg, Neil couldn’t help but whisper out a thank you, shutting his eyes tight and waiting for death. 

Death was not what Neil Josten received. 

Kellogg plunged a needle right through Neil’s sternum, and Neil spluttered for air. He was convinced in that moment that he was dying, dying of a different thing altogether. And as sharp constrictions took hold around his heart, heat pulsing it way through his veins along his arms and down his legs, Neil was sure that it was poison—pure poison—coursing through his veins and killing him. It was so uncharacteristically butcher that Neil started laughing. 

And then it hit him, all at once, as his eyes caught along his wrist and he realized he is no longer bleeding out the back of his knee. 

“Stimpak,” was the only word Neil could find. And it was kellogg’s turn to laugh.

“Didn’t think you’d get a death so easy as bleeding out now did you?” 

Dread suddenly colored everything. Neil slumped his head back against the ground as fear took hold once again. He hadn’t accounted for stimpaks. He hadn’t considered the ways the butcher might draw out torture for his own amusement, bringing Neil close to death just to start all over again.

The back of his knee closed up, skin contorting and morphing itself around the blade still partially lodged between his knee. The wounds at his wrist stopped bleeding. And Neil felt better, felt stronger. He took his first deep breath in two weeks, his ribs completely healed. 

And then Kellogg made an attempt to dislodge the blade from Neil’s knee, pulling at the freshly scarred skin and reopening the wound he’d just healed. Neil couldn’t stop the scream from escaping this time, the sheer surprise of the pain wrenching the sound from his mouth. 

Neil’s mind became a looping record of _I’m going to die_ and _I can’t take anymore._ And with each new cut and each new stimpak, Neil found it harder and harder to give a shit about his life.

His mother’s voice, perfect timing that it always seemed to have, would show up to insist Neil snap out of it every third cut or so—just as Neil was sure he had decided to give in to the pain, to pray for shock to take him. 

He fought her, yelling at her to shut up in his mind. In the end, she’d gotten a bullet to the head, and Neil had been craving one since the first slice. She didn’t deserve to chastise him now when her death had been so simple, so painless, so _easy._

But her paranoia was strong, and Neil couldn’t deny that the looping cries in his head were her worst anxieties played out before him. He tried to fight them, tried to remember that he wasn’t dead yet. He forced himself to open his eyes, to _look around, you idiot._

The first step was taking out the synth. Neil tested his strength as surreptitiously as he could against the synth’s hold and he wasn’t surprised to find that it was stronger than the average man. It wouldn’t make any sense for the Institute to create beings that were weaker. Each hand was placed right at Neil’s elbows, limiting his mobility and pinning him staunchly to the floor. It wasn’t ideal, but with Kellogg straddling his hips the way that he was, it made escape possible. 

Another slip of Kellogg’s knife along the underside of his arm sent sharp distracting agony throughout Neil’s body, clouding his head and stopping his plotting. Kellogg traced Neil’s anatomy with the blade, slipping under his bicep through to his armpit and moving the blade back to the top of his tricep, two long parallel lines held tight by the synth’s left hand. 

Kellogg crouched closer in an attempt to get the angling right as he brought new cuts down vertically to connect the two long gashes. Neil seized his opportunity to break free. 

He brought his knee—the one without the knife lodged into it—forward, pitching Kellogg up and over his shoulder. The move sent Kellogg careening into the synth. In the chaos of the motion, the synth was only able to keep one arm pinned down, but it hardly mattered. Neil was slipping his arm out of the synths hold and rolling himself onto his side as the other two scrambled to regain their balance. 

Kellogg’s knife clattered to the ground, and in one swift motion, Neil grabbed it and lodged it into the synth’s head. A single hard pull down towards the base of the machines neck had it falling to the ground. 

Kellogg brought a knee to Neil’s chest, doubling him over and pushing him back with the same movement. He didn’t hesitate in bringing his elbow along the soft spot at the side of Neil’s neck. But Neil had a blade, and Kellogg didn’t, and that was what mattered in a fight with the butcher. He sliced roughly at the air, missing three times as Kellogg dodged out of the way, before a slice across the ribs gave Neil the upper hand. 

Knife to his throat, Kellogg let out a laugh as Neil scrambled on top of him, careful to avoid putting any pressure on the knife sticking out from his knee.

“Why didn’t you kill me?” Neil demanded. It was the question that had burned in his brain since he watched his mother die. "When you had the chance, why didn't you?" 

Kellogg laughed again. "Don't you get it? I want to see you struggle. I knew you'd come looking for me. You were always too stupid for your own good. And you did, didn't you? Crawled back to your place at my side despite everything you've done to stay away. Oh Nathaniel, you stupid son of a bitch."

Neil slid the blade roughly down the length of Kellogg’s chest. It was a clean, unrelenting cut, but Kellogg looked unimpressed by it. 

“Now what? You’re going to cut me up?” he asked. 

"What can I say?" Neil’s hand was steady, pressing the knife back to Kellogg’s throat, a practiced calm humming through his bones. "Guess I really am my fathers son.”

“Let’s wait for you to kill me before you start throwing around words like that, junior.” 

Neil caught the fist that came up along the side of his head, twisting it around to pin Kellogg’s arm at an unnatural angle above his head. But Kellogg had nearly a foot on Neil, and definitively more body weight. He threw Neil off like he was nothing, hooking his left leg around Neil’s thigh before bringing him once again onto his back. 

He rose and brought Neil up by the collar of his shirt, ripped apart as it was from the multiple slices he’d taken so far, and yanked the knife from Neil’s hand before he could manage another slice to Kellogg’s body. He cut an identical stripe down Neil’s chest and smiled as he watched the blood pool.

“We match, how touching.” 

“Father, son bonding,” Neil spat. 

Another bark of a laugh filled Neil’s ears, and Kellogg’s joy was heightened as he brought the surface of the knife in a thick stripe against Neil’s shoulder. Neil let out another grunt, his legs dangling five inches above the ground and scrambling as he tried to find purchase and bring himself upright. 

A single finger to Kellogg’s eye, that’s what it took to turn the fight in Neil’s favor. Neil hooked his finger into the socket and gauged it out in a moment of thick desperation. It was dirty, undignified, everything his mother had taught him to escape a fight and everything his father had ingrained was beneath him. He expected Kellogg to scream, or cower back, or react in some substantial way, but he just grunted. His teeth were clenched so tightly, Neil could hear them creak against one another. 

Kellogg shook Neil, his entire body rattling around in a sluggish mix of pain and disorientation. The disjointed movements sent so many shots of pain through his various wounds that they seemed to contradict one another. It was too disorienting to keep his grip on Kellogg’s wrists, but Kellogg was in too much discomfort to properly notice. Neil fell with a hard thud onto his knees, driving the knife further back into his leg, the gashes along his shins singing out in pain as he landed. Neil let out a sharp hiss, pain coiling its way up his body as he threw his head back and tried to catch a breath. 

But then something caught Neil’s eye. A weapon, slid underneath the bottom of one of the computers. He couldn’t make out what it was, but he didn’t care as he crawled towards it. Neil moved as quickly as he could, his hips sliding in protest against the concrete as he used the uninjured parts of himself to throw the rest of his body forward.

He heard the knife slice through the air half a second before he felt it lodged into his shoulder blade. And Kellogg pulled hard at its handle, slicing a long deep cut along the tendons, following the curve meticulously to fray each and every ligament along the muscles in his back. Neil kept reaching, his other hand, his newly healed wrist, until his fingers wrapped around cold metal.

He pulled and swung in one motion, damning himself and Kellogg as he rolled over onto the knife in his back. His hit just barely missed Kellogg as he leaped off to the side to grab another knife. The inside of Neil’s cheek burst out blood hot and fast as Neil bit down into it, using the pain of the crunch against the skin to draw himself up. 

It took four limped steps for Neil to come up behind Kellogg and swing, but a quick dodge and slice to the back of Neil’s hand gave Kellogg the space he needed to bring his foot square against Neil’s chest, sending him backwards against the wall. The knife dug deeper, and Neil struggled desperately to dislodge it, fingers reaching around his back and slipping along the handle. Each near pull dragged the knife deeper into his flesh. 

The wind escaped his chest from the force of the throw, but Neil managed a few spastic breathes with each dodge he managed to avoid from Kellogg’s new knife. Kellogg angled the blade the same Lola always did when she was fighting on the offensive, the long blade reaching out as an extension of the rest of his hand, perfect for thick decisive slices without the need to rotate or angle the blade. Neil moved every way he knew, dodging in undignified and choppy ways. His mobility was limited with the knife in his back and knee, each rotation he made twisting the blade further against his muscles in his back and each step shooting pain through to his foot. He was limping severely, and it seemed hardly likely that he would learn to compensate for his leg that wouldn’t respond the way he wanted it to. 

Neil brought his weapon up in a wide swing and connected with Kellogg’s elbow, the thick sound of metal against bone ringing out with Kellogg’s rough scream. It was a risky move, and brought Kellogg’s blade up and closer to Neil’s hip, where it grazed along the bone. 

Fingers wrapped around Neil’s head as Kellogg gripped tight and thrust Neil’s face against the thick metal of the nearest computer tower. The force of the hit broke his nose once again, a new flush of blood smeared down his face and along the back of his throat. Kellogg swiped again with the knife along Neil’s ribs, but a quick duck and drop towards the ground had Neil just out of reach and moving away from the blade.

A swing of his uninjured leg brought Neil’s foot hard against Kellogg’s wrist, knocking the knife out of his grip. Neil lunged forward and curled his hand around the blade before bringing it up towards Kellogg. He stepped into the attack, standing up as he surged the blade towards the underside of Kellogg’s chin.

Kellogg was quick to counter, a kick to Neil’s injured knee had him losing his footing once again, sending the blade screeching across the fabric of Kellogg’s shirt. As Neil fell, Kellogg gripped hard at Neil’s wrist, rocking him around so that his back was flush against Kellogg’s chest, wrapping a foot around Neil’s ankle to pin him in place. 

He squeezed hard at the pressure points in Neil’s wrist, digging into the fresh scar to dislodge the knife from Neil’s hand while pressing the knife further against Neil’s back. Neil’s grip broke, the knife falling towards the ground. He watched it float down in what seemed like slow motion before reaching out with his other hand, nicking his fingers as he gripped the blade once more and pulled it around his other side into Kellogg’s ribs.

Kellogg didn’t hesitate, leaning into the cut to roll with Neil’s momentum and pull him around front once more. He wrenched the knife right from Neil’s grip this time, and held it fiercely as he threw Neil back to buy him some breathing room. 

He came straight for Neil, swiping his blade in a clear stroke across the air where Neil’s stomach should have been. Neil dropped low instead, bracing his chest against the ground, refusing to be pushed on his back once more. 

He reached forward and wrapped his hands around Kellogg’s leg, drawing himself forward before attacking in the only way he could. 

It was savage, teeth digging so deep and pulling so fiercely at the flesh of Kellogg’s calf, that Neil felt the pressure move up along his temples and twitch at his broken nose as he clamped harder. A rough grunt left Kellogg’s lips and heightened to a shriek as Neil pulled fiercely back, dragging Kellogg down and ripping chunks of flesh with it.

Kellogg dropped lower, bent over at his hips, to press a hand firmly against the gushing wound, stumbling as he moved backwards. Curses fell from his mouth, slipping off his tongue with the same rapidity that blood slipped through his hand. 

It was the moment, the distraction, Neil had been waiting for. He lunged forward, bringing his elbow up hard into Kellogg’s jugular notch. The move forced Kellogg upright before bringing him down on his back. Kellogg grappled for a solid grasp on Neil’s arm, trying to force him off, but the force of the blow to his windpipe had him choking on his own attempts for air.

Neil reached blindly out for the nearest weapon, still holding tight to the pressure of his elbow at Kellogg’s throat. As his fingers rapped around a cool metal handle, Kellogg lodged his knife into Neil’s side, bringing his knees up to try and throw Neil off. 

It didn’t matter. Neil brought his weapon down hard against Kellogg’s head, lodging it so deep into his skull that for a moment it stuck. Neil screamed out, rage igniting his movements as he dislodged it and struck again. And again as Kellogg slumped to the ground. And once more as he watched him sink forward on the ground. And again. And again. And again. And just to be sure, just to be absolutely certain, Neil brought it down a final time, well after the body had stopped moving.

It was a wrench, the weapon he had managed to find and utilize. Neil stared down at it, caked in blood and bits of bone and hair, surprised that of all things this was the weapon he’d used.

As he looked down at the body, Neil found something glowing in the reflection of unrelenting blood flow. He bent down, placing his hand flat on Kellogg’s unmoving chest to balance himself, and examined it carefully. Thin coils of metal and small gauges fused together within a piece of brain material. It was a wonder Neil hadn’t managed to completely destroy it in his fight. He slid his fingertips underneath the coils and rummaged around the rest of Kellogg’s head. It was hard to tell what was bone and what was metal—everything was slippery and coated in red—but as Neil made his way down towards Kellogg’s neck he felt a thick rectangle at the base of it. Neil cut through the skin at the back of Kellogg’s neck and found the tubes attached to another piece of machinery. He made quick work of detaching the tubes and extracting both pieces of technology. 

Neil ripped a patch of fabric from Kellogg’s shirt and wrapped the piece carefully inside before tucking it into his pocket. If Renee could find enough from the courser chip to bring him here, Neil was sure he would be able to get information about the Institute from this thing. 

Neil didn’t allow himself to feel disappointed that this wasn’t quite the way he had wanted his father dead. It was useless to waste time considering how differently things might have gone. He was alive and that was what mattered. But as he sat back, legs carefully curled against his chest, and looked down at the body he couldn’t stop panic from blossoming in his chest. He breathed heavily, letting his fear overtake him, letting anxiety and panic have its way. He couldn't be sure how long he stayed like that, lying in his father’s blood, but hesqueezed his eyes so tightly that it was a newly formed headache that distracted him from his pushing as much air as possible into his lungs.

He could have sat there all day. Sleep was begging for his bones to still. There were plenty of beds on the upper floors for Neil to catch rest, and he most definitely needed it. But as he stared down at his father’s body, he knew there was only one thing left to do now. _Disposal._

Still, the rest of his wounds needed tending to before he could make any meaningful movements to get rid of Kellogg. So, instead, Neil made quick work of utilizing the medical equipment he had gathered. He poured antiseptic over his wounds haphazardly, drenching his clothing and what little armor he still had equipped. It was quick, sick snaps of bones to bring his shoulder back into place, to set his nose, to realign a crooked finger. Neil reached around his back to pull the knife that had made its way down far enough that he could grab it. He pulled a stimpak from where it had been discarded on the floor and held it tensed in his left hand, taking a deep breath before bringing his hand around the blade lodged in his knee. In the same motion, Neil plunged the stimpak into his thigh and dislodged the blade. It didn’t sting, exactly, but there was a pulsating pressure that surged through his leg—the desperate attempts of his body to heal his wounds. Neil closed his eyes and leaned forward, allowing the medicine to work its way through him. It was a strange feeling, not wondering how he was going to get to his next point after sustaining serious injuries. 

Neil closed his eyes and laid flat on his back, ignoring the pool of blood underneath him. He took five carefully constructed breaths, and waited ten seconds before taking five more. He could do this, _he needed to do this._

Neil opened his eyes and forced his body to move, reminding himself that he’d trained for this, that in some twisted way he was prepared for this—this next step. Dismembering his father’s body. 

_How many bodies have I put away before?_ He tried to recall the number, and failed, and vomited, and brought himself hunched forward with his hands flat in front of his knees, desperate for a breath. 

Kellogg’s knife belt was still spread out along the surface of a nearby table, and Neil took only a second to examine it before freeing the cleaver from its sheath. The first swing flew threw the air in a shaky arc before coming straight down along Kellogg’s thigh. 

As he worked on the body, cutting and chopping and stabbing and pulling at skin and tendons and bone, Neil made decisions. Each new slice, a new conclusion. 

_I will become numb to this. I will find a way to be free of this. I will not die. I will keep living. I will not disappoint my mother._

Logic tried to bite back, snapping its fierce jaws at each new declaration he made, but Neil was teetering on just enough hysteria, just enough panic, that he could mostly tune it out. He convinced himself, in the dark hole where he is chopping a man he just murdered, that he could have this. He could have life. He could figure this out. 

His mother’s voice came through more clearly than it had since she’d uttered her last words. 

_You know what to do. Now do it,_ she said, the words precise. 

It begins with dismembering this body. And after he does that, he just has to dispose of it. And after he does that, he just has to loot this place. And after he does that, he just has to leave. 

Simple, clear statements.

He repeated the words in his head like the desperate mantra was keeping him alive. If he focused on that, he could block out the fear. The fear, the fear that was bubbling under his skin. He could feel it close to boiling over, a palpable thing that rocked him back and forth with nausea. But he convinced himself that it is the act of dismembering that was causing his panic, and it just barely worked.

He couldn’t deny it—that was the worst part. The realization that he liked it, that he wanted this, desired it, found pleasure in sliding a knife under the surface of the skin. Blood pooled around the mouth of each cut, puckered against the surface, spilling down towards the ground. And it was beautiful. And Neil felt power—power he’d never felt in his life.

Neil flicked the knife delicately along the seams of the muscles, using leverage to tear into the tendons and bones as he worked his way through, separating each of Kellogg’s limbs from his chest. He crawled his fingers through Kellogg’s gut, ripped at the flesh until his fingers slid against bone. Neil was determined to find any additional pieces of machinery he could find. He would not allow himself to survive this just to be taken by surprise by his carelessness. 

Dread floated in the air, somewhere outside of his own head, as he worked through each new piece, each new limb, and each new organ. He vomited again and felt better. He chopped deep to disconnect a shoulder and felt a surge of relief. He worked his fingers through entrails, and felt pride that he knew exactly what to do. He reveled in them, these feelings of fleeting distraction as he continued his work.

It seemed like there was so much blood, but Neil knew—had known since he was a child—that it was only five litres of blood that caked his clothing, and clung to his blade, and coated the floor beneath Kellogg. And as he stood back to look at it, it seemed like so much less than he’d thought. 

And then that was it. Kellogg was dead and laid out before Neil.

And then there was fear. Fear that he had not allowed himself to recognize until that very moment. Because he hadn’t killed his father, had he? He’d killed a version of him. A singular version, when countless others existed. They existed, and after they discovered what happened to Kellogg, they’d know that he knows. And they’d come looking, wouldn’t they? Neil did his best to ignore those thoughts, ignore that fear. 

_Focus on the next task._

With the body dismembered, all limbs checked for additional hardware, Neil set about discarding it. He considered using the gamma guns. Went so far as to grab one from the nearest synth, holding the weapon in his blood soaked fingers, but he couldn’t bring himself to point it. 

Mary’s voice floated into his head again. _Don’t be an idiot._

As he watched each disjointed piece of Kellogg’s body catch and crackle into blue ash, Neil felt himself become more and more numb. He had been right in assuming his mother would like these guns. As he watched each trace of Kellogg leave his sight, he was sure of it.

He didn’t stick around long, traveling back the way he’d come into the fort and stopping only to ransack medicine cabinets and weaponry closets. It was hard to know when he might come across a haul like this again, and Neil wasn’t stupid enough to snub a gift of chance. 

Light nearly blinded him as he stepped outside, aggravating his already pounding head as he brought up an arm to shield his eyes. The sun wasn’t high—it was midmorning by the angle of it—but it was strong. It was distracting enough that Neil couldn’t properly survey his surroundings. A shift in the dirt had him bringing a pistol up in anticipation. 

He was as ready as he imagined he could be. For an ambush. For a group of Nathan synths ready to finish off the job Kellogg had failed. For any of the other deadly scenarios that flashed through his mind in the moment it took for him to pivot towards his attacker. 

But, it was only Dogmeat. Neil lowered his arm and dropped to his knees at the sight of the dog running towards him. Neil let out a whimper he didn’t even know he was capable of making and then Dogmeat was pressed up tight against him. He started licking Neil. Licking Neil on his face, and across his bruised knuckles. Everywhere, really. All over. And it was all Neil could manage to stretch his fingers into his soft fur and pull the animal closer. And it was desperate, needy. The emotions that flooded through him as he held onto Dogmeat were ones Neil couldn’t identify. 

And then Dogmeat whimpered, reminding Neil of something. Reminding Neil of something that was just out of his reach as he continued caressing the soft fur behind Dogmeat’s ears. His promise. The promises he’d made to himself. And then Neil was standing, his face hardening. He was ready for whatever happened next. He had survived this long and he was going to be ready for whatever came next. 

Neil watched as Andrew and Kevin came down the road toward the embankment. He took measured steps towards them, counting off each step forward in his mind. He pulled the shell he had been carefully creating over himself, each decision and each cut solidifying in a new persona. He pulled it on and strapped it tight, fixing his features into smooth assurance, shifting his limbs into determination. _This is fine,_ he reminded himself. All of it. It’s all fine. Because _he_ is fine. He is fine, and Kellogg is dead. And that’s as close to closure as Neil Josten could get. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next two paragraphs is about updates. If you don't care about the logistics of that please feel free to skip! 
> 
> I've been pretty open in the comments about some of the changes going on in my personal life that have contributed (along with general anxiety and writers block) to the severe lateness of this chapter. But for anyone who doesn't know (and maybe you don't care--which is also fine!) I started a new job this past Tuesday and as incredible as the work is, the 12 hour days are already burning me out and we don't even have students in our hallways for another three weeks. I'm also moving this saturday, which brings with it its own special brand of stress. Neither of these are excuses for the pure procrastination I have displayed in sitting down and editing this chapter, but I want to be transparent about both my lack of a work ethic and the other factors that are relevant to the lateness displayed here. 
> 
> Once the school year begins, I will be listing the dates of each chapter update. Most likely this will mean I am updating once a week. I don't think I can make any commitments to updating more frequently than that. That's all about updating logistics! Please feel free to reach out with any questions. 
> 
> Follow me on tumblr if you so please: @gladiatorgrl


	15. Call To Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Andrew brings his group to Sanctuary.

Andrew wondered if Kellogg would make an example of Neil Josten. Residue of Kellogg’s conquests were present all across the Commonwealth. Andrew had heard the stories, had seen the left over carnage. And he wasn’t stupid, even if Neil was. 

There wasn’t any point in considering the alternative—Neil Josten surviving Kellogg. Andrew knew this. And yet, he felt the thoughts pushing in from the far corners of his mind. Those what ifs that he never allowed himself to give in to were pushing with a ferocity he wasn’t accustomed to. It took more effort than it should have to push thoughts of Neil Josten—broken and bloody and at the mercy of Kellogg’s blade—from his mind. 

It was hours to get to Fort Hagen. Hours of walking in addition to hours without sleep. And each moment of it was spent fixating on what they might find there. Sleeplessness had most everyone silent as they walked, but every so often someone would make a comment about Kellogg. 

The first thing he noticed was the blood. The second thing he noticed was the dog. The third thing, well that was harder to identify. It wasn’t anything on Josten—it was something itching within in himself. He didn’t like whatever feeling was worming its way and nesting in the tightness of his chest, but he knew whose fault it was. 

Andrew and Kevin were the first to reach Neil. He stood as they approached, but neither said anything even as he stared right through their faces. It wasn’t until the others were close enough to see him unclose that words fell into the air. 

“You’re alive,” Nicky said, doing nothing to hide his surprise. 

“Nicky,” Renee chastised. 

Nicky had the good grace to look halfway apologetic, but only for a moment. He did his best to hold Neil’s unimpressed gaze, but it didn’t take long for his discomfort to show. Nicky scanned the faces of everyone around him, trying and failing to get a pulse check on the situation. 

Even Aaron seemed to be appraising Neil with a new found interest. 

“I’m fine,” Neil said, shifting slightly under the pressure of everyone’s eyes. 

“You’re covered in blood,” Nicky said. “Is it all yours?” 

Neil looked slightly insulted by the question. “Of course not.” 

“It’s a lot of blood,” Aaron seemed inclined to inform him. 

Neil scoffed. “Only five liters or so.” 

“Only the totality of blood in a grown man’s body,” Aaron retorted.

“What happened?” 

Andrew hadn’t asked the question—it had come from Kevin—but Neil turned to him as he answered it. His eyes were a little too wide as he said, “Kellogg’s dead.”

For a moment everyone seemed to be processing that. Aaron with his feigned indifference. Nicky with a stifled exclamation. Kevin with disbelief peeking under his new found Neil Josten skepticism. But Neil kept his gaze trained on Andrew. Renee was watching Andrew, too. Though he suspected she was looking for something quite different. 

“We’re leaving,” Andrew said in the next moment, holding Neil’s eyes for another second before turning back towards the direction they’d just come. 

“Don’t you want to know what happened to Kellogg?” Nicky asked. 

It was Kevin that answered. “It doesn’t matter what happened. He’s dead.” 

Andrew craned his neck to watch them. Kevin’s gaze lingered on Neil like he was waiting for Neil to correct him, or challenge him. Skepticism was written all over his face, but his voice was firm, clear, and unflinching. When Neil didn’t say another word, Kevin started off towards Andrew. 

“We’re heading up to Sanctuary,” Kevin said as he passed and took point. 

Neil looked more grateful than usual to have the attention off of him, following suit behind Kevin.

Drenched in blood as he was, he didn’t seem that worse for wear. He was doing a good job of hiding the small limp that had worked its way through his left leg, and his stubbornness had him keeping a good pace despite Nicky’s insistence he slow down. 

Andrew hadn’t been expecting him to be alive, but the small part of him that had considered it had expected Neil to be skittish. Instead, Neil was firm in his resolve. He was silent, but it was different somehow. Less purposeful. More like all the words had been sucked straight out of his body, instead of his usual silence for fear some truth might slip out. 

It pissed Andrew off. 

There wasn’t a need to throw a look at the others in order to keep them from talking. One look directly at Neil had them shutting their mouths and heading off as quickly as possible. 

As they walked, Andrew took in the various details of Neil’s body and set to work piecing them together. On one hand, he couldn’t allow himself to care. But on the other, he was drugged and curious. 

Taunting seemed like the ideal go to—but it would be worthless without gathering the proper information. 

Andrew made a mental list. 

Nothing was bleeding, and nothing was broken. It was the work of a stimpak for sure, but Andrew remembered how unhinged Neil had acted the last time someone suggested he utilize one. Boy walked around with broken ribs for two weeks without bothering to heal himself. Using a stimpak was either a last resort or something worse all together. 

Neil walked a little taller, in all likelihood finally able to stand straight now that his ribs were healed. But his frame was fragile. Shaking with a rigidity that Andrew knew was the only thing holding him together. He had his left hand wrapped securely around the strap of a new duffel bag. It clattered with weaponry at each step. 

There were a dozen ways the interaction with Kellogg could have played out—but even with his overactive imagination Andrew was coming up blank. He hadn’t imagined a scenario where Neil had faced Kellogg and lived—he hadn’t allowed himself to consider that possibility. 

The moment Neil Josten had left Goodneighbor, Andrew had been prepared not to see him again. He had been prepared to leave all of his problems, and suspicions, and complications at that gate. 

But now Neil Josten was a few feet in front of him, walking with purpose Andrew knew he had no business having. Andrew wondered how best to make him talk when they were on their own.

Neil spent most of the walk clenching his hand into a tight fist before relaxing it quickly, repeating the gesture repeatedly to punctuate his impatience 

It was admirable—almost—the way Neil carried himself on the walk back. Andrew alternated between wanting to put himself between Josten and Kevin and circling to the back of the group. Like his mind, his body was particularly restless. Be it sleep, drugs, or some other combination that had him wound tighter than normal, Andrew wouldn’t keep pace with anyone. 

He was almost grateful as they came up towards Sanctuary. If nothing else, it offered him a chance to get away from everyone else without having to bother trying to keep them from dying. 

Neil just kept holding tight to the strap of the duffel on his shoulder, fingers gripping tightly around the worn corded material. His fist was so tight, it was as though the bag was the only thing keeping him grounded.

If Kevin had been expecting security at Sanctuary, he was sorely mistaken. The settlement was a single cul-de-sac of fewer than a dozen prewar homes. To get to the entrance, their group had to cross a bridge, but besides a lone unmanned defense tower at the mouth of the bridge, there wasn’t any additional security to keep them out. 

“Pathetic,” Kevin muttered under his breath as they waltzed through the settlement. 

It was minutes before anyone realized there were visitors. They could have massacred the entire place if they wanted and barely anyone would have been able to do anything to stop them. 

Dan barged from the house in the center of the street, gun loose at her hip. She must have recognized them from inside. Her movements were too casual to be on the defensive. 

She greeted them loudly and with reckless abandon. She moved for Matt and Renee first and then turned her attention to Neil. Dan’s smile was fierce, and despite Neil’s blood she pulled him into an equally fierce hug. 

“I shouldn’t be surprised at this point to see you in a state like this. Get into another fight with a deathclaw?” 

Andrew eyed Neil speculatively, images of Neil against a deathclaw floating into his mind.

She rushed them into the center of operations for Sanctuary—a yellow home centrally located on the street. 

“We’re at sixteen now. A bit hard recruiting this far north, but we’ve been lucky,” Dan explained as everyone made themselves as comfortable as possible in the living room. Kevin, Aaron and Andrew took the only couch. Renee took an available armchair and the others remained standing. “Steady supply of food from the gardens and we’ve got a well for drinking water. Big priorities now are building infrastructure. People have to sleep somewhere, ya know?” 

She brought a big pot of water and a smaller basin for washing and set it on the table in the center of the room. 

“Get cleaned up and I’ll find you something to eat. You all look beat to hell.” 

“I’ll help you, Dan,” Renee said, motioning for Neil to take her seat. He didn’t move, but no one rushed for the empty chair. 

It was interesting, watching everyone fuss over Neil. Especially as they focused on all the wrong things. Once she brought a smattering of food for them to pick at, Dan insisted she look over his wounds and enlisted Aaron to provide medical treatment. Aaron was his usual mix of forced indifference and skepticism, but even he couldn’t brush off the phenomena of a Kellogg victim survivor. Nicky spent his time in a dizzying rush of gossip, vocalized worry, and fascination as he fluttered from one Sanctuary settler to the next. Matt was 

Neil stood more removed than usual from the group. He was perfectly polite and inserted appropriate commentary in all of his usual places. But he was off. He would reposition himself away from Matt and Renee whenever they came too close. Dan, who it seemed had patched up Josten before, was told to forgo any aid. He wasn’t mouthy, or angry, or present in any capacity other than physically. 

“I just need to sleep,” he finally said, some of his usual desperation seeping in. Andrew wondered for a moment if he had been imagining the changes in Josten all together. Perhaps he was hyper-focusing on something that wasn’t there. 

“I’m sure you all do,” Dan said. “You’re all good to stay as long as you need to.”

“We didn’t come here for Josten,” Andrew said, though it felt ridiculous to even consider such a thing. There was no point in waiting to deliver the news anymore. “Riko is sending Gunners after Sanctuary.” 

“Bastard,” Dan spat. “When?” 

“He won’t waste any time,” Kevin said. “They are probably already on their way.” 

“Your defenses are shit,” Andrew said. He didn’t bother looking around. He’d surveyed the settlement on his way in and remained unimpressed with its defensive abilities.

“Way to be helpful.” Dan replied.

“It’s not his responsibility to be helpful,” Kevin put in. “It’s your fault your settlement is in this state. What have you all been doing out here?”

“You could’ve helped them,” Neil said, anger flaring. “Aren’t you supposed to have some kind of talent for this?” 

Kevin’s eyes narrowed. “What’s the point of an autonomous settlement if we do everything for them?”

“I don't know. What’s the point of a crippled soldier on a death crusade?” 

“The fuck did you just say to me?” Kevin’s words were razors thrown through the air. He jumped up from his seat and crossed the space to Neil, squaring his shoulders as he outstretched a hand for his throat. 

In that one moment, Neil Josten started to look like himself again. Fiery, angry, alive. But in the moment where Andrew was jumping into action he saw that it wasn’t the same Neil. He just couldn’t identify why. 

Neil ducked and swiped out at Kevin’s legs, but Andrew was already there, taking the full force of Neil’s kick to his stomach without flinching. As the brunt of Neil’s kick landed, Andrew was already moving—dropping his weight forward to throw Neil onto his back. 

He wriggled about but when Andrew pressed his knife against Neil’s throat he stopped moving. 

Andrew felt Neil’s entire body stiffen and then fall compliant, so unlike the other times Andrew had seen him fight. He watched every shade of fight leave Neil’s eyes. Whatever had happened with Kellogg had left Neil worse for wear in more ways than one. It was this alone that had Andrew pausing before slicing his throat. 

Everything had gone still and silent between Andrew and Neil, but everyone bustled around them in an instant. They split the way Andrew had expected—his group on one side and Dan’s settlement on the other. Matt had a gun pointed at Kevin. The split in Andrew’s attention made his hand feel extra twitchy, even more ready to rid the wasteland of Neil Josten. 

Renee stood the closest to Andrew, in the middle of the two groups, and placed a hand on the top of Matt’s gun, lowering it with a small shake of her head. 

“Nothing to say this time?” Andrew asked Neil. His hand still held the blade tight to his neck. 

“You’re the one with the knife.” It was small. His words were quiet. Andrew envisioned slitting his throat and watching as Neil choked on his own silence. 

“He’ll be useful against the Gunners,” Kevin said. 

Andrew waited to see if Neil would respond. 

“Why would he care about that?” His eyes were locked on Andrew’s, and there was a strange attempt to imbue a different meaning into his words. Andrew wasn’t sure Neil realized what he was doing. 

“You make a good point,” Andrew said as he removed the knife and stood up. The comment was directed at Neil, but he was sure everyone interpreted it as a response to Kevin. 

Everyone was still on edge. But as Matt rushed to help Neil up, Neil avoided his touch. He sprung up quickly and put some distance between himself and the larger man. 

“We don’t have the time to worry about fighting amongst ourselves,” Dan said, ever the pragmatist. “Matt, Kevin and Andrew, see what we can do to enhance our protection in the limited time we have. Aaron, let’s see what medical supplies we can draw up. Nicky and Renee let all of the settlers know what is going on. I’ll hand out appropriate assignments and circle back to each of you.” 

“What about me?” Neil asked. 

She gave him the most pitying look possible and told him to rest up. 

His attempts to argue were lost in the shuffling of bodies moving with new purpose. 

Andrew found it slightly strange when Neil called after Renee.

He said a few quick and quiet words before placing something in Renee’s hands. Andrew saw the way his whole body fought against the motion. He took a step back and refused to look in her eyes. His voice was low—low enough that even Andrew couldn’t understand what it was he was saying. But the motion was familiar enough. He’d seen it a dozen times in the wasteland. Neil was swallowing all pride and all fear and asking for a favor. 

Renee nodded silently, and Andrew could tell she knew he was watching. Why she was protecting Neil’s privacy was beyond him, but he didn’t care enough to bother her about it. Whatever he was up to wasn’t any more or less shifty than usual. 

Instead Andrew busied himself finding any spare bottles of liquor he could get his hands on. Dan’s office was pointless, and as amusing as it was to see their limited supplies and desperate raid plans posted all over the walls, Andrew was in no mood to be amused. 

He took to searching the rest of the settlement. It wasn’t until about halfway in that Dogmeat came trotting up next to him. 

“Go away.” 

Dogmeat did no such thing. 

“At least be useful and find some alcohol.” 

Dogmeat stayed at his side for one more minute as Andrew scrounged around old kitchen cabinets. The dog left in the moment, and it was several moments before he returned—a half empty whiskey bottle in his mouth. 

He set it at Andrew’s feet before trotting back away. 

Andrew examined the bottle on the ground without touching it, cursing Dogmeat and every dog in the Commonwealth for finding things they had no business finding. It didn’t stop him from picking the bottle up in one swift motion and heading to the opposite side of the settlement. 

He fixed himself a spot at one of the defense towers facing the river and uncorked the bottle. The rich burn of the whiskey wrapped around his tongue and slid down his throat. Sleep was on the horizon; he could feel the effects of his drugs starting to wane. It wouldn’t be long now, and the whiskey would help alleviate enough of the withdrawal that Andrew would be fine staying asleep most of the night. 

The shift around him was a change in the air. Even if Neil’s motions were silent, air parted differently around him. It was a phenomenon Andrew was only vaguely interested in. 

He felt Neil’s presence for several moments before he opened his mouth. 

“Don’t you have another death wish to attend to?” 

Neil was quiet for a moment, coming up next to him to look out at the river. “I thought I’d be done after that one.” 

Andrew considered his statement. It was a lie, but he could still sense the truth of it melting along the edges of the words. 

“Killing Kellogg didn’t solve your problems?” It was cruel and Andrew couldn’t care. 

“Not with you.” 

Andrew felt all the effects of his withdrawal hit him at once, starting—as it always did—with shaking hands and bile crawling up his throat. 

“Get out of my face.” 

“Don’t you want to know what happened?” Neil asked. 

“Not in the slightest.” He punctuated his words with a lazy swig of the bottle before passing it to Neil. 

“Don’t drink.” 

“Still hiding things, then,” Andrew assessed. 

Neil said nothing, just continued looking out at river. 

“Who are the Gunners?” 

“Not related to Kellogg,” Andrew said, sensing the question hiding under Neil’s words. 

Neil’s snort was so pathetic it was almost a moan. “As far as you know.” 

“You enjoyed it,” Andrew said. He paused a moment before clarifying, “killing him. I can tell just by looking at you. So why the long face, Josten?” 

“Thought you didn’t want to know what happened.” 

“Thought you were done with death wishes. What are you still doing here?” 

There was the small twitch of a smile, and it was the most authentically Josten thing Andrew had witnessed since the last time they had spoken at the gate of Goodneighbor. “Guess I can’t resist.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhhhh...hi! 
> 
> I know it had been insanely long since I've last updated. Thank you so so much to everyone for your thoughtful wishes and all of the good luck sent my way for the move and new job! 
> 
> My new work schedule is truly and completely insane, and as you can tell it is very hard to consistently update. With that in mind, I am committing myself to updating once a month. For those months were there are several school breaks, you can expect posts with a bit more frequency, but I really cannot make any promises beyond that. 
> 
> That being said, I am committed to continue working on this story. I know where the story is going, its just a matter of getting it down. As usual any requests for plot points, settings, character development are appreciated and encouraged. 
> 
> This might not be that satisfying of an update. And for that, my apologies. I tried to get into Andrew's head best I could, but he was particularly difficult to write this time around. Maybe cause I've been so out of practice! Next chapter will feature the Kevin/Neil confrontation now that Riko had clued Kevin in on what he knows about Josten. 
> 
> Thank you again for reading!!!


	16. Sanctuary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Neil learns part of Andrew's story and the Gunners attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming to you live from Canada y'all! 
> 
> Hi hi hi, so I know it has been an outrageously long time since I've updated. The best I can offer you all is that my job is crazy, I barely have any free time, and I am also wildly unmotivated to write. But alas, I am on holiday in Montreal/Quebec City and have been crazy inspired just being around such amazing art and beautiful sights. 
> 
> I've also stopped trying to hyperfocus on every single detail in every chapter, and just write and edit as y'all give me feedback. That means this chapter is probably super choppy, very rough, and may not even be that satisfying. I deeply apologize for this, but if I don't post this now I swear I never will. As usual, let me know what you love/hate/are indifferent to. And when I say I have no idea where this is going next, believe me! And if you have ideas of where you WANT it to go, let me know! 
> 
> I'm also working on a new AU (a sister one in fact) so shameless plug, if you're into dark!neil type things, sibling aus, and a workthat actually takes place in the Exy world check it out: In Her Shoes. 
> 
> Anyway without further ado...

It had probably been a bad idea to give Renee the materials he had found on Kellogg, but with each hour that passed Neil found himself feeling more and more reckless. Just his luck, he supposed, that in the midst of living through an impossible encounter his self-preservation instincts should wane even further. 

There was an itch that nestled in his chest, mirrored by a constant stream of _what ifs_ and _what nexts_ in his mind. But he couldn’t concentrate on any of that, not until he was tucked behind safe walls. Not until he figured out _where_ he could be safe. 

So until then, he moved. There was no guarantee he would be safer anywhere other than the Sanctuary, so he stayed in the encampment. No one would allow him to help prepare for the attack, and the civilians in the Sanctuary were uninterested in the extra hands he offered for harvesting, so instead he took inventory of everything he had taken from Fort Hagen. It was a good haul, better than he had been lucky enough to stumble on in a while. In fact, the last time he had found anything comparable had been in Germany with his mother. 

A flash of her face floated under his closed eyes as he took a deep breath to steady his racing heart, and it was gone in the next moment. He had to step back from the duffle, and when a gun dropped from his hands onto the ground, several worried eyes flashed his way. 

He steadied his breath, keeping his eyes screwed tight. Her imaged kept appearing behind his eyelids, vanishing every other second like a light flickering in a dark room. Her tight lipped look of worry, a fierce tug of hair, and a whisper of her voice in his mind not to be stupid. 

The foxes had tact, but just barely. Nicky’s eyes screamed for the opportunity to ask questions, flicking desperately between the others. Neil stalked farther away from the group, no longer wanting to be helpful. 

He wanted to run, felt it itching in his bones. So much so that he wasn’t sure what was keeping his feet attached to the ground. Even as he walked further away, there was some unspeakable thing pulling at the sinews of his body. Something that stopped him from breaking into a run. Something almost like hope. But because he was too on edge to be still, he paced around the grounds. Neil did his best to keep his focus on tangible things—the breeze carrying across the creek, the rustle of radioactive tree branches, the hard crunch of the ground under heavy boots and armor, and the twinge of his knee with every other step. Focusing on these things did nothing to really distract him, but he could at least slightly convince himself it was working.

As the foxes built up what little protections they could against the Gunners, a new tension took hold of the air. Mingling with the tension that pulled tight around Neil, he found himself gripping his weapon with increased fervor. He counted to himself in French, and when that did no good, switched to German. The feeling of his lips moving numbly against the cold night air calmed something in him, and he repeated his numbers like the desperate mantra they were. 

With each hour that drove closer, the foxes grew more silent. So much so that there was barely any sound beyond the clinking of weapons being modified and the hammering of defenses being built. They were unclear about the numbers the Gunners would pull together, and that uncertainty impregnated every silent space between them. The Gunners might be a collective group, but they didn’t necessarily have any loyalty to one another, even less so to Riko and the Brotherhood. 

Neil listened vaguely, but the conversation wasn’t stimulating enough to distract him. So he turned to his own imagination. It was right in the middle of wondering if killing would feel different now that he had survived his father, that Neil noticed eyes on him. At first he was horrified, that it had taken so long for him to notice _again._ Especially since it was once again the legendary Kevin Day that was attempting to be covert. 

He was watching him from across the road. Neil recognized the kind of hesitation in his frame, and at first it was confusing. It didn’t take long for Neil to begin to feel paranoid, especially in the moment it took for Kevin to realign himself, squaring his shoulders before taking strong steps forward. 

Kevin stalked over, hands tensed by the rifle slung around his arm, and stopped just out of Neil’s reach. He didn’t speak, seeming to lose all his nerve once he arrived. 

Neil’s patience was too thin. It was one thing having nearly everyone stare at him like he was too far away to reach, another thing entirely to watch Kevin too timid to confront him. 

“Another recruiting speech, Kevin? Or are you here to hit me again?” 

Kevin didn’t speak. Instead, he shoved a scrap of paper forcefully into Neil’s hands. Neil stepped back as Kevin pushed forward, holding the paper tight in his fist. The sheer confusion threw him off entirely, and for a moment all he could do was look at Kevin. 

“A message from Riko.” 

Neil felt his eyebrows twitch together. He’d never met Riko, didn’t know what the man could possibly have to say to him. But he drew his eyes down the object in his hands and considered it. It was small—no more than two inches long and rolled up tight—and despite its weight, it was rather plain looking. 

Neil unraveled the paper and examined it for a moment before looking up at Kevin. 

“What is this?” Neil asked. 

“Don’t play stupid,” Kevin said harshly. Rage twitched in between his words, as though it had been brewing with each moment Kevin had kept his mouth shut. “If he felt the need to write that out for you then you know the code.” 

“Code?” Neil echoed. He looked down at the paper, at the gibberish written there. It wasn’t a question he wanted to ask, but without a better option he opened his mouth. “Kevin, what are you talking about?” 

“Andrew was right, wasn’t he? You’ve been working for them.” 

Neil was stunned, unable to move. “What did you just say?” 

Kevin didn’t hide behind vagueness when he was asked this time. He slapped the scroll from Neil’s stunned hands. It fell to the ground with almost no effort, rolling away from them. “You’re working for the Brotherhood, aren’t you?” 

The words shook Neil once more, sending flashes of Kellogg speeding through his mind. His smirk cut his whole face open and a deeply disturbing calm washed over him as another little bit of Neil Josten was stripped away. “You know, Kellogg mentioned you. Kevin Day: The promising right hand of the Brotherhood. Too valiant to make any real change, and all the end of Riko’s leash.” 

He was embellishing, but he knew the words that would make Kevin squirm 

Kevin flinched, taking a step back from Neil. His eyes were narrowed, lips pulled tight in dread. 

“God you are so fucking pathetic. _This_ is why you’ve been acting like you can’t move too close or too fast around me?” Neil said. “You think you have any right to lead this fight against the Brotherhood when you grew up as their dog?” 

Something shifted in Kevin’s features, so that his terror turned into a rage Neil had seen unmatched by anything else. 

Before he could act on that rage, Neil felt it best to keep his mouth going. 

“If you think I’m working for them, then do something about it.” 

“Don’t think I won’t,” Kevin said, staying locked in place. 

“Then do it. And I mean _you._ ” Neil narrowed his eyes. “Not Andrew.” 

“Fuck yourself,” Kevin spat, and swung. The punch landed. And it hurt, Neil had to admit that. 

Still, a second later and he had his eyes fixed on Kevin again. 

“Do it again.” 

He did, a hit to his jaw. 

Kevin, apparently, didn’t need prompting a third time. As soon as Neil fixed himself, he swung once more, this time connecting with Neil’s gut. 

The force sent Neil bending forward, one arm wrapping around his waist like he might be able to hold himself together better. 

“Riko teach you that?” His voice was barely above a murmur, but Kevin heard him clearly enough to bring an elbow hard down on his back. 

It felt satisfying somehow, good to be hit by a hand other than his fathers. Neil was amazed, that despite everything he didn’t feel that familiar terror of being found out creep through his veins. He suddenly didn’t care—couldn’t care less in fact—if Kevin found out the whole truth about him. That alone should have been enough to send Neil into a state of horror, but there was a strange calm that washed over him. 

“Shut your mouth.” 

Neil stayed on the ground, staring down at his hands where they supported him. The wind was nearly knocked out of him, but he pushed the last of his words out of gritted teeth.

“You know, you’re beyond saving if you truly think one scrap of paper changes anything I’ve told you.” 

“Anything you’ve told me?” Kevin demanded. “Stop playing games, Josten. You haven’t told any of us anything. You killed Kellogg and don’t have a fucking word to say about it? Either you’re insane or you’re hiding something.” 

“Maybe it’s both,” Neil threatened. 

“I’m starting to think it is.” 

“Again, are you going to do something about it? You know without Andrew to hide behind you’re looking mighty powerless.” 

Kevin shook his head. His anger seemed to be dissipating out of him. 

A shout of Kevin’s name came from the encampment, and his attention seemed successful averted from their conversation. 

“I don’t have time for you right now,” he said, still looking towards the Sanctuary. It was a lie, a cheap one, and they both knew it. But without anything better to do, Neil bit his tongue and brushed the dirt off his knees. “Stay away from me.” 

“Indefinitely?” Neil asked mockingly. 

Kevin walked off without a word.

* * *

 

It didn’t take long for someone to replace Kevin. 

“So, Kellogg…” Nicky started. 

Neil almost had to laugh at Nicky’s lack of privacy, but rage choked the laughter before it could reach his throat. He flicked an annoyed look his way, and clenched his fist when he realized Aaron was there as well. 

“Not in the mood, Nicky.” 

“You’re not the only one,” Nicky said staring out at Andrew who was banging away at his gun at the weapon’s workbench. He was removed from the rest of group standing by the supply of weapons, his back turned away from both them and the campfire. 

Only half of his face was illuminated, which Neil found vaguely intriguing. The light almost made Andrew look soft—untouched by the wasteland in a way he’d never imagined possible. 

“He seems even more on edge,” Neil said. 

Aaron snorted. “Nothing affects Andrew except rage. And sometimes not even that makes it through.” 

“The Gunners though,” Nicky said, shaking his head. “Sore spot for Andrew for sure.” 

“Why’s that?” 

Nicky slid a look to Aaron, seemingly ashamed for having accidentally revealing too much, but elaborated anyway. 

“Andrew grew up with the Gunners.” 

“And you didn’t?” Neil addressed the question to Aaron, but it was Nicky who continued speaking. 

“He lived with their mother, and eventually came to live with my parents. It wasn’t until a few years ago Andrew and Aaron even knew about each other.” 

Neil looked at Aaron for verification, but he kept his eyes averted and his stance radiating indifference. 

“How?” Neil looked between Nicky’s sheepish expression and Aaron’s enraged one. It took that single word for Aaron to turn around and walk back towards Dan’s house. 

Neil had the good grace to wait until he was out of ear shot before returning to his questions. 

“How did they not know about each other?” 

Nicky gave him a pitiful look, like he was surprised Neil could be so obtuse. His voice was patronizing as it came out, the only sign that Nicky was uncomfortable disclosing this information. “Think of how keen my Aunt Tilda, their mother, would have been to tell Aaron she abandoned his twin brother in the wasteland.” 

“But Aaron found out.” 

Nicky shifted, looking out across the creek, as if waiting for the moment the Gunners came and hoping it interrupted this conversation. 

“Yes, he found out. And to me that’s proof that the Wasteland is one predestined shithole. Aaron and Tilda lived in Cambridge, where Aaron was born. One day they were on a supply run at the Bunker Hill trading post. While Tilda was getting high on Jet, one of the men who runs a trading route down through Quincy saw Aaron at the merch stands and started talking to him, calling him Andrew and chatting about how things were going down South. It only took a few moments for him to realize Aaron was not Andrew, and thinking he was reuniting long lost family members, he disclosed everything to Tilda. Even then, the Gunners had quite a reputation though, and the boys were nearly fourteen, so no one thought it strange when Tilda refused to get mixed up with them. She basically told the supplier if Andrew wanted to come back he could, even though she didn’t mean it. I guess she thought it would end there. Of course, Aaron wasn’t satisfied with that, and got it in his head that they should go rescue Andrew from the Gunners.” 

“And did they?” 

Nicky’s smile was tight-lipped. “He went behind Tilda’s back, headed out to Quincy himself. Aaron had sent a radio relay to the Quincy radio tower. It was a stupid move, but he was fourteen, and had lived a much more sheltered life than Andrew had. Broadcasting your location is a guaranteed way to get yourself killed. He was lucky, I guess, that Andrew was the one who interrupted the message. ” 

Neil waited for the rest of the story, but Nicky seemed resistant to disclose this last piece. 

“And?” 

“Five miles from the border, Andrew shot him on sight.” 

He didn’t want to ask the question, but he had to be sure. “And he knew it was Aaron.” 

“He knew. It was close range.” 

“Aaron didn’t try again,” Neil said definitively. He doubted Aaron’s stubbornness and pessimism was something he developed overnight. “So how’d you all finally get together?” 

“Dad happened to be checking on Tilda when Aaron stumbled back home a wounded mess. He moved Tilda and Aaron to the Charles View Amphitheater a week later andfollowed up with some of the encampments in Quincy, trying to get more information on Andrew without getting too close. Then the Quincy massacre happened, and everyone was so concerned with the Minutemen that no reliable information was coming out of Quincy. In the weeks that followed, Andrew kept himself busy making a name for himself as a lone mercenary, putting his time with the Gunners behind him.” 

Nicky paused his story as he turned his attention back to Andrew. Dan came up next to Andrew at the workbench, a careful distance away, but still close enough that her words didn’t carry above the crackling flames of the campfire. 

“Last time Dan fought the Gunners head on, Andrew was on the Gunners’ side,” Nicky said softly. 

This was the part of their history Neil already knew. The Quincy massacre had decimated almost all of the Minutemen—only Dan and four others had survived. He hadn’t realized Andrew had been one of the ones that had nearly brought them to extinction. 

“Anyway,” Nicky continued after another moment of silence. “Dad convinced Tilda to send a message out offering Andrew a spot at the settlement. It was months later when Andrew finally showed up, and by then Aaron had already rethought the whole long lost brothers thing.” 

“A bullet wound will do that.” 

Nicky’s laugh was dry and uncomfortable. “Andrew wasn’t too keen on Aaron either, but he stayed with us and the religious nut cases in the amphitheater for a few months. Then Tilda died, and he convinced us to go to Goodneighbor with him after Wymack offered him a job that was too good to refuse. Since then…” Nicky left the rest of his sentence to hang, offering a lazy shrug of his shoulders as the only explanation. 

There were too many blank spots for Neil to feel satisfied with that story, but it was unclear if they were a result of Nicky’s omissions or Andrew’s. Even still, Neil found that he didn’t really care so much about Andrew’s past. He knew from his own experience that a person’s past was more often than not better left buried. 

Neil watched Andrew tell Dan some, probably creative, variation of ‘fuck off’. She seemed unfazed, even with the exaggerated eye roll and exasperated flailing of her arms, and kept pushing at him verbally until she seemed to get what she wanted. 

The moment she did, she turned her attention on Nicky and Neil and started walking towards them. 

“Captain’s got a new plan for us,” Nicky muttered. 

Dan’s face held its usual determined expression, and she only waited until she was within yelling distance before she started to speak. 

“Too many civilians will be exposed out here, and we have no reliable place to hide them within the confines of this settlement,” she started. “Andrew agrees it would be best to tuck them somewhere out of sight.” 

“And where would that be?” Nicky asked, an edge to his voice.

She looked right at Neil as she said it. “Vault 111.” 

Dan didn’t wait for Neil’s protests, instead she barked a quick command of orders before turning away and heading to her next subordinates. 

“Neil will lead you and those civilians that are too young, old, or injured to fight. He’ll go through and are sure you all are safely tucked inside before rejoining us for the fight. Nicky, you’ll stay down there and keep the civilians safe in case there is a breach. Mobilize immediately.”

* * *

 

It was eight people, plus Nicky and Dogmeat, that climbed the hill up to the vault. Neil explained as much as he could on the walk up, hoping to get them down and safe as quickly as possible so that he could join the fight. Nicky asked no questions, and listened patiently, but Neil could sense that he wanted Neil to open up about all sorts of things surrounding Vault-Tec and the Vault system. Neil stuck to the topic at hand, and distracted Nicky with more useless details of the compound. 

As Neil overrode the platform operations with his Pip-Boy, he refused to make any eye contact with Nicky. They could hear the gun shots begin from the Sanctuary—just a few at first—no one had been exaggerating when they said the Gunners had already been on their way. 

“You should stay with us,” Nicky said as Neil closed up the vault door behind them. “You just had a fight to the death with Kellogg. You can’t to take on the Gunners.” 

“Let me just show you how the security system works,” Neil said, pushing past the civilians. He shuffled them towards the living quarters, trying to get them to move as quickly as possible. There was a strange wonder in their eyes. Hardly anyone had ever been in a vault before. 

Neil had long ago disposed of his mother’s body, but he still felt like they would figure something out about him, just by being in the same space. His body twitched with the desire to leave as quickly as possible. 

He could hear the fight progressing from the top of the hill where the Vault entrance was. The moment he exited and locked the vault door back up he was running down the path back towards the Sanctuary. 

There weren’t as many Gunners as Neil expected. Following the sounds of the gunfire, there couldn’t have been. He knew the firepower the Sanctuary had, and there was barely more than a dozen weapons that he could pick up. So, he was surprised as he entered the camp to see people wounded. Renee, with a hand pushing on Dan’s upper thigh to stop the bleeding as she fumbled with her mouth and her free hand to pull the top off a stimpak. Matt wrapping his own shoulder and securing it tight to cut off circulation before rushing back to his spot at the watchtower. 

It was waning—the sound of the gunshots—but Neil couldn’t pick up whose side was winning as he came around the bend towards the main house. By the time he reached the main part of the encampment, the fight was over. 

It was Aaron, surprisingly, that was mad with his weapon. He mowed down nine bodies from where he stood at the dead center of the encampment. 

The last five were picked off by the other foxes. 

The whole thing was done in no more than ten minutes. 

Andrew stood motionless a few feet away from where Neil was busy surveying, making sure there was no one else. The silence was unnerving to him, but as his eyes fixed on Andrew, he forgot about it. Andrew was staring hard at his brother, though it seemed to go through him. It stopped Neil in his tracks, cut the spinning wheels in his brain, and had him taking a hesitant step forward. 

Neil didn’t say anything as he came up next to Andrew. He knew at this point, it was better to let Andrew speak first than spoil the conversation before it began. 

“He wasn’t with them,” Andrew said quietly. 

It was such a strange, unbridled moment of candor that it made Neil feel slightly uncomfortable. 

“Is that it, then?” Neil asked after a moment. 

Andrew tuned half his face towards Neil, and in that second Neil knew he’d lost the opportunity to reach Andrew here. He was closed off again. 

“That’s it, Josten. Let’s burn the bodies before the ghouls come looking for food.” 


	17. Memory Den

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Andrew contemplates Neil, in a...variety...of ways

It was two days later and Andrew’s lot was back in Goodneighbor. Andrew found himself in a heady swirl of withdrawal after the combination of adrenaline and amphetamines that had pumped through his system the last few days, and it took one look from Hancock to know that he was off wall duty until further orders. 

“Clean yourself up, kid,” he’d ordered when they arrived. “You look like shit.” 

His last dose was 11 hours ago, and it was already closing in around him. Andrew didn’t want to stay still, and he didn’t want withdrawal. He wanted Kevin to keep his fucking promise and find a way out of this. He wanted Neil Josten to stop throwing worried glances his way when he was limping around the camp in a blood soaked mess. And then he wanted to not want a goddamn thing. 

He did the only logical thing he could manage—and burned at some of the withdrawal with whisky. Andrew wasn’t stupid, and he knew his limits, but until he could come up with a better plan of action, he was propping himself in the VIP room of the Third Rail, and telling everyone else to fuck off. 

He hadn’t been with them—Drake, whose name he didn’t even want in his head let alone on his lips. And he hated that Riko’s words has convinced him he would.

There was a part of himself that was so glad he wasn’t there. Drake’s murder needed to be personal, not some mindless firing in a mindless fight for camp control. He’d thought it out so many times, imagined so many details over and over. 

His hand clenched around the glass of booze and decided he couldn’t concentrate on that right now. There was the bigger problem of Josten. That same problem he had been pushing away before he’d left for Kellogg was back. Sure, it had bowed off stage momentarily when the shock of Kellogg’s death had everyone else in a tizzy, and the strange skepticism Kevin was throwing Neil’s way had dulled some of the emotions Andrew was intent on not feeling. But there was something digging at the bottom of his chest, a small reaction trying to nudge its way through the drugs and through the dullness and through the bullshit. 

For a moment, he allowed his mind to wander. What was the point of stopping it really? It didn’t mean anything, couldn’t possible mean _anything_. And it was natural to respond to something attractive. 

Andrew started with the curve of a neck—as mundane and impersonal an image he could muster. No clearly distinguishable marks, no blue eyes staring him down. Instead, his focus was on taut skin along a delicate pulse point—running parallel to the hard lines of Neil’s lies. It was intriguing enough, at one time, for his mind to focus on just thatone image alone. But his mind was wandering without Andrew’s permission, and he didn’t have the strength or patience to put it on hold. 

The image shifted. And suddenly all of Neil was in Andrew’s mind. The strain of muscles along his neck connected to a broad a shoulder blade bringing a gun to rest against it. There was an adjustment as blue eyes focused through a scope, the soft fall of eyelashes brushing along cheek bones on a deep inhale. 

Air filled Neil’s chest. Andrew imagined for a moment that he had a hand pressed taut against Neil’s front. Fingers crawled across the cloth to edges of the shirt and made contact with skin. Then it was sliding up and off, and it took a single flash of his impatient mind before that image shifted to Neil underneath him, nearly naked. All the blood in Andrew’s body rushed to his groin, down his stomach and up his legs where it met as tension rubbed against the front of his pants. In the moment it took for Andrew to recognize his arousal, every past memory rushed back and Neil was vanishing in the undertow. 

He forced his eyes shut and bit the inside of his lip so it drew blood. He was just as bad, wasn’t he? As those that had done the same thing to him. His skin began to crawl, throat constricting. His hands shook along his body, looking for any spare cigarettes. When he couldn’t find any, he reached for the bottle, suddenly convinced he couldn’t get the alcohol down fast enough. He was aware of how stupid he was being, but he was too far gone to fixate on it. 

His eyes remained shut as he chugged at the bottle. He didn’t realize Neil had come close until his voice filled the silence of the room around them. 

“Kevin doesn’t trust me.” 

There was a long, almost painful beat of silence as Andrew lowered the bottle gingerly on the table and leveled a glare on Josten. At this point his erection had mostly subsided. 

Andrew suppressed a scoff. _Fucking typical._

“You know, you really don’t have any self-preservation skills.” 

“I know that.” It was a little defensive. Andrew liked it that way. Neil’s voice had an interesting tug when he was being obtuse. 

“Do you? You just told the person that is allowing you to stay so long as Kevin finds you useful that he no longer trusts you.” 

“You don’t have to trust someone for them to be useful.” 

Andrew barked out a laugh and wondered if Neil really was so stupid that he didn’t realize he was doing the exact same thing right now with Andrew. “Josten speaks the truth yet again. What a rare occurrence.” 

Neil looked at the glass between them. “You’re drunk.” 

“ _Drunk_ is a strong word, don’t you think?” 

At Neil’s less than amused face, Andrew continued. “I’m off my meds and unless we want an upchuck incident or me shaking on the floor, this,” he raised the bottle in the air for emphasis, “will have to do.” 

“Well, Kevin thinks I’m working for the Brotherhood.” 

“Are you?” 

Neil spluttered, trying to find a way around the casual accusation. 

“My parents were murdered by the Brotherhood.” 

“And?” 

“And, why would I want to associate with the people who killed my parents?” 

“They struck a deal with you? Offered protection? Offered forgiveness? They blackmailed you? There are a dozen explanations.” 

“Well, I’m not.” 

“Ah,” Andrew said taking a sip of his drink. “Very convincing.” 

“Aren’t you going to do anything? Convince him or, I don’t know…” He waved his hands around himself a bit. He looked utterly ridiculous. “Question me or something.” 

“Do you want that?” Andrew asked. “For me to _question you_?” 

It sounded sexual in ways Andrew hadn’t anticipated, but it hardly mattered. It went right over Neil’s head like everything else. Add that to the list of reasons to hate Neil Josten; kid had the sexual comprehension of a turnip. 

“You aren’t curious about Kellogg?” 

Andrew sighed, poured himself another drink. 

“Look, Neil. I know you are desperately trying to tell someone about the terrible, no good, very bad thing you did to Kellogg. But I promise you, no one cares. You came out looking like you had a fight with a meat grinder. That’s the only reason why people were staring at you. We’ve all murdered here, and we’ve all watched others murdered in front of us. It’s not special. And it would do you good to remember that. And leave me the fuck alone while you’re at it.” 

Neil suddenly became indignant. 

“For the limited intel you all have gathered, this is one of the first members of the Institute to be taken down that had actual substantial _hold_ over the organization. Hewas a renowned Mercenary. Not a single person who had come up against him had ever lived to tell the tale. Not to mention clean up was a disaster. He had metal all throughout his body, weird devices in his brain. You’re telling me no one was curious about any of that?” 

“Devices in his brain?” 

“That’s right. I gave it to Renee.” 

“Get up,” Andrew said, standing. He left the bottle on the table as he made his way to the door. 

“What?” Neil said. “I’m not done-”

“Actually, we are. If she’s been holding off this long, then I know what you gave her.” 

He didn’t elaborate. If Neil was following him or not, it suddenly didn’t matter any more. 

He blew open the door to the Memory Den and found them in the back of the room. Betsy Dobson was by the computer, Renee next to her, as they stared at the screen before them. 

“You two have been holding out on me,” he sang as he entered. 

“It wasn’t intentional,” Renee said without looking up from the screen. “I wanted to be sure before I brought the information to you.” As she looked up at Andrew, she noticed Neil was behind him. “And Neil,” she amended. 

“Go on, explain it to him,” Andrew prompted. 

There was a moment where everyone except Andrew looked at one another confusedly. Andrew, as always, seemed to have the upper hand in the conversation. Betsy took a moment to gauge how much Andrew wanted her to expose. 

“Do you know anything about this place?” Bee asked, turning her full attention to Neil. 

_Leave it to her to really draw this out._

“No.” 

“Well the name Memory Den didn’t just come from the old world signage. These pods along the wall?” She directed Neil’s attention to the six pods that lined either side of the room. They were elaborate, ornate even. All bronze finishing, with smooth glass tops. The insides were upholstered in rich fabric, all varying shades of cream and red and pink. The pods were hooked up to more modern looking machines that hardly matched the aesthetic. 

“These are dream pods. They allow me to implant memories—old, new, true, fake—into peoples minds. They also allow me to extract memories when applicable. They used to be used for torture, by the US government, but I assure you our intent here is purely therapeutic.” 

Neil shifted his feet and flashed a glance to Andrew before licking his lips nervously. 

“Alright.” 

“The device you gave Renee was a memory inhibitor. It worked on similar technology as these pods, obviously on a micro scale. We believe it allowed the brotherhood to control and have access to Kellogg’s memories.” 

“And you can access those memories?” 

“We can,” Bee nodded. “Of course, we wanted to be sure we actually could before we pulled anything.” 

“And you can show them to me?” Neil demanded. 

“That’s the thing. There’s a heavy encryption. It seems like they’re good for one viewing before the chip fries out.” Abby flicked her gaze to Andrew. “We weren’t sure—“

“They’re his,” Andrew said. It was low, almost quiet. “He brought it to you. They’re his if he wants them.” 

Renee nodded. “Do you want them Neil?” 

Neil gazed cautiously to the pod. “What will I have to do?” 

“The process is fairly straight forward. The inhibitor would be set up to one of the computers attached at the pods, where we would transmit the memories into your own brain. You would also be connected to the pod, seated inside with electromagnetic pulse points along your temples. The computer would then monitor your heart rate, brain activity, respiratory functioning to make sure nothing you saw was so overwhelming you went into shock. Only you would see the memories, and if the chip works like expected, you would be pretty autonomous in your ability to roam Kellogg’s mind.” 

Andrew watched Neil careful, looking for a jump of an eyebrow, or the twitch of a lip, any sort of nervous gesture that gave away he was not ok with this. This was a new level of stupid, even for him, to go digging around the brain of a Brotherhood agent. If it was true and Kellogg had killed his parents, then he’d rewatch their deaths along with whatever else Kellogg had done to them. 

Andrew was waiting for Neil to run, but all he found was steely determination. This unpredictability was still grating on his nerves. 

“I’ll do it,” Neil decided. “But I don’t want her here.” 

He threw his head at Renee. 

Renee didn’t bother to wait for anyone to protest on her behalf, she stood up and spoke calmly as she headed for the door. “Of course. I have business to discuss with Wymack.” She looked at Andrew. “I’m available after for our usual meeting.” 

He didn’t bother to acknowledge her beyond a very small nod. There was an amusement Andrew found at Neil’s insistence Renee stayed away. 

“It’s a tremendous risk,” Dobson warned Neil as Renee retreated. She didn’t try to talk him out of it—Andrew could tell the difference—but she did try to lay out all of the information. “And the decision should not be made lightly. This kind of load could overwhelm your body, fry your own brain. There are other means of getting this information. A synth, for example.” 

Neil, big talker that he usually was, seemed unfazed. “I already said I’d do it.”

“Alright. It shouldn’t take long to get the process going. You can take a seat in the first pod off to the right.” 

Neil lowered himself into the pod and did his best not to look trapped. Andrew watched him, not bothering to hide his gaze. He didn’t draw his eyes away even as Bee spoke to him. 

“Are you staying Andrew?” 

“I’m intrigued.” 

Her smile was small. “Figured you might be.” 

Andrew didn’t speak again. Bee talked through all of the procedural details as she hooked Neil up to the machine and readied the pod computer. 

Andrew kept his eyes locked on Neil’s face. Neil was avoiding looking at him for some reason Andrew couldn’t place just yet. The dodgy look in Neil’s eyes was missing. He looked trapped, but it was different. And his eyes weren’t the way they had looked after Kellogg either. Andrew squinted a bit; he moved off the wall, got a little closer. It was almost imperceptible, how he had moved, but it was enough for Neil to pull all of his attention away from Dobson’s instructions to look at Andrew. 

Fear was definitely absent. And Neil’s determination was a different shade. Andrew felt his pulse quicken, in a detached sort of way, as Neil leveled his eyes on him. He was drunk enough that he didn’t immediately shut out the grating pleasant feeling that direct eye contact with Neil Josten brought. Instead he distracted himself with trying to place that _look_ in Neil’s eyes. 

It was the same look he had seen from Josten at Sanctuary, when he’d lunged at him with a switchblade. His mind flooded with images of Neil underneath him, all jagged lines and hard angles and looking about ready to die. Andrew didn’t bother to stop the memory, or the attraction, even as the accompanying hatred followed. 

For a moment, it was like Neil knew—and was complicit somehow in this memory. But it was gone almost as quickly. Andrew was sure Neil hadn’t begun to make meaning of any of it. Oblivious could only barely cover this shade of stupidity. 

Neil’s eyes widened only slightly in surprise as Dobson closed the glass cover to the pod, and their eye contact broke as Andrew came around the other side towards Bee. 

“You can close your eyes, if you’d like,” she said as she sat back down on a stool behind the pod. 

The machine emitted a low whirring sound. 

Neil nodded but hesitated a moment. His eyelids fell shut, fluttering slightly in anticipation. 

“I’ll count backwards from five,” Bee explained. “We’ll be monitoring your heart rate and vitals. If something spikes, we’ll pull you.”

“Don’t,” Neil said, keeping his eyes closed. “I’ll come out after I’ve found what I need.” 

Bee fixed a grim expression on her face. “If you are in serious danger, I will have to pull you out.” 

“Andrew.” 

It was practically a groan, and Andrew tightened his fist in response. Begging. The word sprung into his mind and threatened him with a dozen memories. Neil couldn’t do this, Andrew hadn’t given him permission and besides, no one had ever put their trust in him before. Not in the way Neil was asking. He couldn’t call him for his bidding whenever he wanted to. 

Fuck Josten. Fuck every day since he’d met this stupid son of a bitch. Anger pricked fiercely at the bottom of Andrew’s throat. He kept his face impassive, and it certainly wasn't for a lack of trying. Words sprang out of the anger, up his throat and through tightly gritted teeth. 

“Leave me out of it, death wish.” Even the disparaging nickname wasn’t helping. Each word that he said brought with it a new twinge of nausea. His own voice in the back of his mind taunted him: _Why do you even care? Why waste your words on him?_ But Andrew couldn’t stop talking. “Bee will do what she wants, just like you. Deal.” 

Neil didn’t try again. If nothing else he could sense when he pushed Andrew too far. 

“Do it,” Neil said softly to Bee. 

“Still staying?” Bee asked without looking up at Andrew. She flipped from switches and played with some knobs, none of which Andrew seemed entirely convinced were doing anything. 

He didn’t bother to answer such a ridiculous question, and Bee didn’t seem intent to dwell on it. 

“Alright, Neil. It’ll begin shortly. Five…four…” 

She continued counting, and Andrew watched on the screen as the waves of Neil’s brain activity grew wider. He was unconscious by ‘two’. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are they OOC yet? Neil's always been a little mouthy, but boy is just reckless now. And Andrew, idek what to say about him at this point. 
> 
> Kind of a short chapter, but I was going back and forth with whether this was going to be a long, three part one, or three short chapters. I’m thinking of a compromise, with a double feature for the next chapter. But still not sure! 
> 
> Anyway, we’ll soon be in Kellogg’s brain. More brotherhood information to come.


	18. Dangerous Minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Neil enters Kellogg's mind.  
> &  
> In which Andrew watches Neil cage fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a double-feature. The second section picks up with Andrew's perspective. 
> 
> This is a really rough, barely edited version. Hopefully it isn't too confusing. The nature of the setting means it might feel extremely disjointed or chunky. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!

Sound traveled through the darkness. It was a strange, all encompassing sort of darkness. A kind that made him question if he was already dead. 

Neil could make out voices, fuzzy as they were, several seconds before his eyes adjusted to the lack of light. He became keenly aware of his body, flexed his muscles, stretched his limbs. He could feel everything perfectly, was aware of the motions his body as making, and at the same time he felt removed from it. As though his mind had molded to the shape his body was supposed to be, with his body not actually present at all.

Sound distracted him again. He was too far away to hear any words. 

He spun around, trying to orient himself with the sound or any sliver of light. A faint green pulse lit a path where his feet should be, and flickered out in the next moment. It pulsed dimly once more, staying lit as Neil moved forward. He realized he was walking along the neurons within Kellogg’s brain, the tendrils of each cell branching out like a web. 

It was disorienting, walking aimlessly until an image appeared hazily a few feet away. More disorienting still to waltz right into the memory as though he were entering a room in a hallway. 

Kellogg’s voice invade his mind. He wasn’t addressing Neil, there was no way he could even know that Neil was the one walking through his memory. Kellogg was addressing the image before him. 

_“Mom knew how it was. She wasn’t soft but she loved me in her own way. And she protected me from Dad. That cost her more than a few beatings.”_

A boy sat cross-legged on a filthy mattress in the middle of a room. He wore rocket ship pajamas and looked down at the torn covers of a few comic books. A woman, not much older than Mary, occupied a torn armchair a few feet away, reading a book of some kind. A radiowas between them. The light to the machine was on, clearly emitting some sort of report, but there was no sound. No one moved, it was as though they were a display in some museum. 

Neil maneuvered around the room as Kellogg continued to speak. 

_“I don’t know what happened to her after I left. I didn’t want to know. I couldn’t be bothered with that guilt then, but it’s all I feel now.”_

Color bled into the image, and movement and sound hit at the same time. The memory was playing itself out. It startled Neil, but he couldn’t look away from the little boy’s face. 

A man’s voice shouted off in the distance, and Neil watched the boy stiffen. He glanced towards the door, and then at his mother. 

_“She wanted me to kill him. I know that now. But all I did was run away. I was desperate to get out from under the New California Republic’s thumb.”_

Neil went to the door, trying to open it, wanting to see what came next in the memory, but all the color from it faded away. Everything turned grey. 

He looked around, desperate for more, before watching another glowing path set before him in the darkness. 

Neil raced forward. Kellogg’s mind seemed expansive. He needed to find the most important information as quickly as he could.

The path wrapped around confusingly, so that after the first few steps, Neil was convinced he was going around in circles. 

A new scene floated above him some distance away, and Neil started running towards it, convinced it might fade away if he waited too long. 

A young Kellogg, in his early twenties or so, was washing some dishes next to a woman around the same age. 

_“Sarah,” Kellogg narrated as Neil watched them work side by side. “I was the worst thing that ever happened to her.”_

There was a crib in the corner. Neil walked towards it slowly and stared down at the baby in disbelief. 

_“I never deserved her. Neither of them really, but especially not Mary. A guy like me shouldn’t have a daughter.”_

They continued washing dishes, the memory blaring to life as the baby cried in her crib. Kellogg picked her up, whispered her name, and cradled her close to his chest. 

There wasn’t anything else to see here, just Kellogg with his family. Neil started moving away from the memory almost immediately. If he knew his father, or this world, that happiness wasn’t bound to last much longer, not even in Kellogg’s mind. 

A hallway was before him suddenly, Kellogg tensed with a gun as a new voice filled the air. It was coming from a PA. The voice wasn’t familiar, but it was menacing. Young Kellogg moved forward, charging towards the door at the end. 

“You thought you could just fuck with us, and we wouldn’t fuck with you?” The man laughed. “Just so you know—they died like dogs.” 

Kellogg kicked the door open and started firing immediately, but the memory faded before Neil could see who had bene waiting on the other side. 

_“Eventually, I continued East. Just kept going. Before I knew it, I had made it to the Capital Wasteland. I didn't realize that I probably should have stay in San Francisco until I’d met the Butcher.”_

Kellogg narrated as Neil continued to walk. When he stumbled into a new memory, the only sound that filled the air was that of a conversation from another time entirely. 

A woman in white sat behind a plain table, two synths off to either side of her. They were unlike any other synths Neil had seen before. So primitive they barely had any cohesive part of them. Every section was a makeshift mess of recycled parts welded together. They moved sloppily, chunky and automatic even in their footsteps. 

“Mr. Kellogg. I’m glad you’ve decided to meet with me,” the woman said. 

Kellogg stood unimpressed before them.“So, you’re with the Institute…I wanted to see for myself if you really existed.” 

“It’s come to our attention that you have been interfering with our operations lately. This must stop.” 

“I do what people pay me to do. If that’s a problem, I see one way out: I work for you. I hear you can afford me.” 

“I’m not sure you fully understand your circumstances.” 

Kellogg looked at either synth. “I think I do.” 

The synths surged forward, and it was seconds before they were on the ground. They didn’t have a chance to fire off a single shot before he’d finished them off. 

“Impressive. We might have something to talk about after all,” the woman said. 

The memory stopped there, fragmented and broke off until darkness surrounded Neil again. 

He didn’t have to take more than three steps for the next memory to present itself. 

Neil took a step back, backing himself up against a wall as the image focused. 

“Transplant?” Kellogg asked. He was writhing on an operating table, wrists and ankles shackled. “No fucking way. I won’t do it.” 

Nathan Wesninski pressed a knife to his throat. “We know how to resuscitate a body. Just like we know how to transport everything in that head of yours into a synthetic body. I’ll kill you thirty-five times over if I have to, and transplant these memories into you as I pull pieces of you apart. Do you understand what I am saying?” 

Kellogg’s narration broke the sound of Neil’s heartbeat in his ears. 

_“I didn’t realize then that I should have just let them kill me.”_

Nathan injected a needle into Kellogg’s temple as he stilled on the table. It was attached to a wire that hooked up to a computer next to the table. Nathan pressed a button on the computer and laughed in anticipation. 

Pain, so sharp and so intense that Neil’s vision erupted into a blinding light, flooded his mind. He felt it crackle through his joints, pound and pulse through his brain. And as it subsided, and his vision refocused he realized quickly he was in Kellogg’s memory of reliving the Butcher’s mind. 

Nathan’s first kill, brandishing a cleaver and a manic smile. He looked like a small Neil, and as the memories morphed into each other, Kellogg’s faint screams were the only soundtrack to the flashes of Nathan’s life. The likeness between Neil and Nathan was so stark, Neil felt as though he was watching himself grow up. 

He’d seen his father’s work only once before Mary had set them on the run. This was so much worse. Twenty kills, in quick succession. Blood everywhere. Things he always knew his father could do but had never actually witnessed. 

Lola. Romero. A dozen other names flooded in and out. Initiation rituals for each. Too quickly, not close enough to be tangible. 

Then the bombs dropped, and everything stuttered and came to a stop. The memories relented, slowed so Neil could focus on them. They were out of focus, and missing sound, but Neil watched as Nathan underwent procedures for longevity. As his DNA was isolated and repeated, and synths were made in his image.

Kellogg woke up from the operating table. He threw up on top of himself twice and tried to steady his breathing. 

“ _Word came in that his wife and son were in Boston when the bombs dropped. They’d been stupid enough to go into the Vaults. It was my first mission with the Butcher lying inside my mind. Gather DNA. Kill the wife.”_

Neil was running through his mind again, desperate from more information. His vision was starting to fail, his head was pounding, heart racing. He wondered if these were the side effects Dobson had been speaking of. He ran faster, determined to get what he needed before he was pulled. 

He walked suddenly into Vault 111 and for a moment he was so stunned he stopped. Kellogg was standing by the computer for the Cryogenic pods. 

Neil knew this memory, had lived it, and felt no desire to watch it again. He tried to turn around, look away, but he stood paralyzed as the shot that killed his mother rattled in his ears. 

_“The Butcher had made it clear to keep the boy alive. I guess he thought it would be more satisfying to kill his son with his own hands. Or at least to watch him struggle for his life first.”_

Neil walked backwards away from the memory, unable to look away until he was gone and it had faded completely. 

He could barely breathe, but it was hard to tell whether that was from reliving the moment or from the strain that was being put on his body. His tongue was dry and swollen and his coughs brought with them a ripping feeling through his chest. 

He couldn’t handle much more, but there were too many questions left. He really hadn’t discovered anything he didn’t already know or infer. His movements forward were awkward. He tripped on his feet, struggled to support himself. 

He entered the next memory barely able to keep his eyes open. 

A small girl with dusty blonde hair, no older than ten, sat on the floor of Kellogg’s safe house. She was reading a warn picture book, with Kellogg watching from a few feet away. He was cleaning his gun idly. 

_“Wasn’t my idea to settle down with the kid in Diamond City. One of the Butcher’s pet projects. The Institute was keen on letting him…experiment,” Kellogg narrated. “It seems obvious that we were being used as bait for the kid in the vault. I didn’t think he could outsmart me, kill me sure, but it never occurred to me that he was that clever. Seems like he was, in the end. I was another loose end for him to tie up."_

The Kellogg in the memory raised his gun suddenly, pointing it towards the door, just as a man in full black leather and thick black sunglasses entered. He didn’t use the door. Just _appeared_ suddenly. 

“Kellogg,” the man purred. 

“X6-88,” he said, lowering his gun. “You’ll get your head blown off if you keep barging into places like that.” 

“I have new orders for you. One of our scientists has left the Institute. Gone rogue.” 

Kellogg looked over at the girl, she was staring up at him. 

“I take it you guys are taking the kid back.” 

“Yes. This is a new mission. Your job has been fulfilled with her.” 

“You’re taking me back to my family?” the girl asked. 

“Yes,” X6-88 said. “Come stand next to me over here.” 

The girl untucked her legs and stood next to him. 

“Bye Mr. Kellogg. Hope I see you again sometime soon.” She gave a small wave of her hand and flashed a warm smile. 

A bight electric blue current flashed around them and they were gone in the next second. The memory faded. 

Neil supported himself on the desk, holding his hand up to his face. He was certain the next memory would be of the Institute. There had to be at least one he could access. He just needed to push through. If his body was really in critical danger, Dobson would be pulling him. He just needed to keep going. 

Neil pushed a foot forward, reminded himself of the pain at the end of Kellogg’s knife. Focused on the pain that never seemed to leave his left knee. It was difficult, without being able to see his body, to convince himself of the pain he had held previously. But a new image was forming ahead, bright white like a beacon. He only needed a few more steps. 

As he entered, shiny marble floors and polished machines glinted back at him. Everything was glass, white stone, and metal. His head was heavy, but he looked up towards the ceiling. He couldn’t measure how far up it stopped. They were in an atrium of some kind, the walls lined with glass cabinets. It took Neil only a moment to realize what they were holding. 

Kellogg stood some distance away, closer to the wall, examining them for himself. The same child from the safe house was standing beside him. She was dressed in a pristine white dress, clean socks folded over her ankles. Her hair was cut neatly at her shoulders, tied up in a small white bow. 

“Impressive, isn’t it?” the small girl asked from beside him. “There are hundreds.” 

And there were, if these cases alone were any judge. Hundreds of synths designed to look like the Butcher. Neil reached out, tried to touch one of the bodies. They hadn’t been awoken yet. There was no breath in their chests, and their bodies were cold like metal. 

_“It scared the absolute shit out of me,” Kellogg said, these were the last words of narration Neil could focus on. “It probably shouldn’t have. It only took one Butcher to kill you. But it scared me anyway. He could be anywhere now. I was proof enough that his memories could be implanted into any other synth.”_

The memory went black, turned off like a switch. And Neil could feel his chest stuttering for breath. He was choking on air, choking on fear so palpable it was clogging his throat.He could hear the beeping of a machine in the distance, felt pins and needles across his body as his limbs tried and failed to break free of Kellogg’s mind. 

His heart was gone, out of his chest, into his mouth where it pulsed in tandem with his swollen tongue. He wanted to scream, wanted to smash his hands against his brain, rattle himself out of Kellogg’s mind. 

He thought of one word, in as many languages as he could muster. 

_Escape._

* * *

 

Andrew didn’t bother to ask if it was normal—Neil’s reaction to whatever he was seeing. The beeping of the computer told him enough. He watched the numbers raise absentmindedly, and wondered to himself how high they could go before Josten’s heart gave out. 

He gave up with the numbers on the screen in favor of watching Dobson’s reaction. Her face grew tighter and tighter as the minutes passed. She opened her mouth before quickly closing it. She rose off her stool and walked around the sleep pod, assessing Neil as she moved.

“Whatever he is experiencing will likely be hard on him once he wakes up,” she said as she sat back down. “He’ll need some time to adjust.” 

Neil’s body started shaking. 

“The pods put your body in a state of paralysis,” Andrew said, needing to speak the words aloud. 

“They are supposed to,” Dobson agreed, typing on the computer frantically before opening the pod door. “I’m going to pull him.” 

The glass made a hissing sound as Dobson detached the clamps and lifted the door up. 

Neil slid out of the pod, fell to his hands and knees and threw up on the floor. He mumbled something Andrew couldn’t hear. Sweat pooled across his shirt, down his neck. It made Neil’s hands slippery and his hair wet. Andrew tried not to get too close, but he couldn’t hear the words he was whispering between wet lips. 

Andrew bent down as close as he could get without eliciting nausea. 

“I want to fight,” Neil repeated, a little too desperately. 

Andrew stayed silent, waiting for him to expand. He could tell Neil knew he heard. 

“Anything. I want to fight someone—something. I need to.” He stared down at his fists, gripping them so tight they were shaking. He looked back up at Andrew. “I _need_ to.” 

Andrew understood. He was up and out of the room in a second, blowing through the doors of the Memory Den. He headed towards the Hotel Rexford with a new mission that sent a low thrill through his bones. He ducked into Nicky’s room, trusting his mouth to spread the news of their trip the fastest. 

“We’re going to the Combat Zone,” Andrew said. “Be ready in five minutes.” 

“I’ll get everyone else,” Nicky said. Andrew was already out of the room. 

“Let’s go,” he said once he was back beside Neil, dragging him up from his knees by his bicep. “C’mon. The others are already waiting.” 

Neil was a zombie—brainless except for his confusion, except for his rage. It vibrated around him, shifted the air as he walked. He was muttering loudly to himself, saying things in a language Andrew didn’t understand. 

Every so often he would stop, take a shuddering breath with tightly closed eyes, and keep walking. 

Nicky took one look at him and knew to shut up as they made their way to the theater district. He spoke to Aaron in hushed tones instead. 

As they entered the combat zone, Andrew headed straight for the bar, Neil trailing close behind. They waited at the end of the bar for Roland, Andrew surveying the place lazily for any signs of trouble. 

There were more people than usual, and it was crowded in a way that had Neil pressed up against Andrew’s back. He didn’t move away from the pressure of Neil up against him, and Neil let out a soft sigh as he allowed his weight to be carried by Andrew for a moment. 

It was a dangerous thing, allowing this debilitated boy to support himself on Andrew, but he couldn’t bring himself to care in this moment. For whatever reason, the moment had become about showing that he could support Neil, not necessarily whether or not he wanted to. 

“I’ve got a name for the cage,” Andrew said as soon as Roland stopped in front of him.

“Forcing him against his will?” Roland asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“Feeling bloodthirsty,” Andrew said dryly. 

Roland’s gaze passed lazily over to Neil, who was so clearly unhinged it only took a second before he was pointing further down the wall towards the entrance to the cage. 

“Five caps to enter.” 

Andrew set them on the table before Neil could pull the money from his jacket. Roland started making drinks for Andrew’s crew as he explained the rules. 

“The pool is twenty per fight, winner takes all. Once you’re in, you’ll stay in until someone kicks your ass or kills you. We don’t take kindly to murder outside of the cage, but we won’t stop once you’re in there. No weapons to start, unless someone in the audience decides to sponsor you and pay for one. You can keep any of your protective gear.” He looked uneasily at Andrew. “I recommend anything with spikes.” 

He set the tray of completed drinks in front of Andrew. “Britt will take care of you down there once you’re ready.” Roland pointed next to cage on the far side of the wall. An elderly woman with a baseball bat sat on a stool smoking a cigarette. She saluted Roland as he made a hand gesture towards Neil. 

Andrew carried the tray expertly as he navigated around the crowd, leaving Neil to either follow or head to cage of his own fruition. It didn’t take him more than a minute to realize Neil wasn’t behind him. 

He dropped the tray unceremonsionuly on the table Nicky had snagged, right up by the front of the cage off to right side of the room. 

“Where’s Neil?” Nicky asked as everyone scrambled for their drinks. 

Andrew didn’t bother to waste his words. They’d see soon enough, after all. 

The music shifted in the jukebox, a lighter tune. A guitar riff brought with it the playful banter of a piano and a base played chords that struck through the chests of those on the floor. 

Britt smacked her bat lazily against the cage, rattling the metal to draw the attention of the crowd. Neil had stripped himself of all of his protective gear, and entered with sure and easy steps. 

“No way,” Nicky said softly as he watched Neil take his place in the center of the cage. 

“He should not be cage fighting,” Kevin said indignantly. “The risk of injury alone is enough reason.” 

His opponent was already waiting for him, sitting cross-legged off to one corner. A man, a few years older than Neil, who started laughing as he took in how short and small Neil was. 

He said something to Neil that was incomprehensible over the blare of the music. The song was picking up now, a refrain of female voices singing a jolly tune. Blood reflected off the mans hands as he pushed himself up to fight Neil. 

There was a magnetism between the two of them, coming off of Neil in sparks. Andrew surveyed the crowd idly and found almost everyone had parked up at the entrance of this newcomer. They were watching intently. Neil either didn’t notice, or didn’t care, his eyes trained on the man and his body loose and ready. 

The man circled Neil, examining him, but Neil didn’t say a word, barely moved from his spot. Instead he kept his gaze straight ahead, sensing the movements of his opponent instead of watching. 

He went for Neil’s let side first, perhaps sensing the weakness of his knee in the way Neil carried himself. But it didn’t matter, Neil was out of range faster than it took the crowd to blink. He avoided two more shots before the man really started to get pissed off. 

Neil had mentioned to Andrew once that he didn’t drink and he didn’t dance, but watching Neil moving around his opponent while he waited for his opening was the best form of dancing Andrew could admit he’d seen. The song was completely wrong, the antithesis to everything Neil was and everything he was doing, but it fit his movements perfectly. So much so, in fact, that he seemed guided by the rhythm to the core of his bones. 

As the singer’s voice dropped off, and instruments picked up in a varied frenzy, Neil made his move, swiping at the legs of his opponent and coming down on top of him hard. 

Quick successive blows, just slightly off beat with the tune humming in the air, and he was up and off the man a moment later. He kicked hard at his stomach, sending his body over onto his front side. As the man attempted to stand up, Neil brought his boot down hard on the back of his knee, ripping a shout from the man’s throat. 

He leaned down, whispered something in the man’s ear, and a moment later he was tapping out of the cage. 

Neil waited patiently for his next opponent, shaking out his wrist as the song ended and switched. 

It was a thing to watch, up close— Neil on stage, his ferocity displayed for everyone to see. Kevin abandoned his protest by the middle of the third fight, in favor of critiquing Neil’s technique, making little tsk noises with his tongue and clucking his tongue at Neil’s form. As the fights dragged on though, Kevin shut his mouth—in awe of that thing he’d spotted in Neil the first time he’d laid eyes on him. 

“Damn, he is fine,” Nicky muttered, words muffled over the top of the glass of vodka he had pressed against his mouth. “I mean what I wouldn’t do to slip him in the back room.” 

Andrew had a knife pressed against the inside of his cousin’s thigh. “Say another word, and it’s these.” He tapped the blade lightly against Nicky’s balls. 

“Fuck, Andrew. Fine, he’s yours. Damn.” 

Andrew watched Neil. It was rare to see him without armor—rarer still to see such fluid movements, muscle sinewed and clenching and stretching as he made contact with skin. His savagery rattled Andrew’s breath. His fight was over really almost the moment after it started, with a quick succession of punches to his opponents face in a methodical rhythm. 

“He’s not anybody’s.” But Nicky was’t paying attention anymore. 

There were vicious cheers from the crowd as his opponent—unconscious—was dragged out of the cage. Britt gestured for Neil to exit, this was going on his fifth fight, but his feet stayed firmly planted in the cage. She shrugged before sending up the next fighter. Andrew watched Neil swing the first punch, unimpeded from injuries for the first time since they’d met, before he was up on his feet. 

He passed the bar and gave Roland a single glance before waiting in the supply closet off in the back. 

He tried to focus on the task before him, refusing to think about Neil. Focusing on raged breath, and the control he had over Roland in this moment. He knew the routine enough by now that when Andrew was done with him he was tugging up his pants and slipping out the door, leaving Andrew to finish on his own. It was quick this time, and Andrew blocked all thoughts of Neil from his mind. It was too dangerous a territory to fall into. He was methodical, clinical, in his release. And it was done in a matter of minutes. 

He cleaned himself off and grabbed another round of drinks from the table, knocking back a shot as Roland busied himself getting drinks for the others. 

When Andrew finally approached the table, Neil was back, rolling his eyes at whatever scolding he was receiving from Kevin. His eyes went a little wide at Andrew, and if he didn’t know first hand how absolutely oblivious Neil was Andrew could have sworn he saw right through him. 

“Get it out of your system?” Andrew asked staring ahead at the cage. Britt was grumpily ridding the ring of the pool of blood Neil had left behind. 

He was calm, almost deceptively so. “I did.” 

Andrew turned to look at Neil, not bothering to hide any of his scrutiny. His gaze fell down to Neil’s hands, bloody and bruised, before sliding back up to his face. 

“Good for you.” 

Nicky downed the last shot and playfully scolded Andrew for not retrieving more. 

“You get the next round,” Andrew said without looking away from Neil. 

Nicky seemed about to comment on it, before Kevin was pulling him away in search for more alcohol. Aaron followed behind them desperately. 

“Kevin says I shouldn’t be reckless with my fists. I guess they still matter to him.” 

“You’re a warm body to point a gun in his fight.” He left the rest of his statement hanging: of course you matter to him. 

Neil smiled slowly, a delicious, dangerous thing. “We should probably talk about what I saw.” 

Andrew didn’t bother responding. He was watching a small part of Neil Josten be returned to himself. The mouthiness, the confidence, it was coming back bit by bit the longer he sat there watching. 

“I’m almost tempted to drink.” 

It was a strange truth for Josten to be sharing. 

“Do it, then.” 

He didn’t laugh, but it was a near thing. Andrew had to cut his good mood before he got reckless. 

“You’re willing to give the truth of what you saw in Kellogg’s mind,” Andrew tested, narrowing his eyes. “That doesn’t seem like someone whose concern is staying alive.” 

“I’m still concerned with staying alive. But I can at least make myself useful until I have to go.” 

“By playing Kevin’s war tactics game, you mean.” 

“By doing something that matters.” 

“ _Matters_ ,” Andrew taunted. 

“I want to be a part of something.” Neil’s eyebrows furrowed, frustration beginning to color his features. “I want us to succeed in taking down the Brotherhood. After what happened at Sanctuary, don’t you want that too?” 

“I don’t want anything.” 

Neil looked him up and down, slowly. Andrew felt the trail of his stare along his body and hated it. 

There was a retort on Neil’s tongue, Andrew could feel it emanating off of him. A retort so close to the mark, so close to revealing the irony resting between the two of them. 

But his face changed, and he was shaking his head, taking a sip of his Nuka Cola instead. And the moment was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is interested what this looks like in game there are some great walkthroughs that focus on this section. I'll include some links below. The next chapter we will be back to Neil's POV as he discloses what he learns and decides on a plan of action. There will be a heavy amount of PTSD and trauma associated with the next chapter, a fair warning now. But we will also get more information from Kevin as well, regarding Riko and the Brotherhood. 
> 
> I know that even though there was a lot presented here, not a whole lot was explained, so please reach out with any and all clarifying questions. 
> 
> As usual, all feedback and comments are GREATLY appreciated. Thank you again for reading and for sticking with this story this long. Hopefully things feel like they are moving along at a good speed. 
> 
> Next chapter will be posted by 1/15
> 
> Links to walkthroughs:   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=okHMr-2D7Sc  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ggPK6WXiq2E


	19. Memory Interrupted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Neil discloses what he's learned to the Foxes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thank you to everyone who continues to read and have faith in this fic!

He hadn’t slept longer than four hours the past week. So when he arrived back from the Combat Zone with Andrew’s thinly veiled threat that he better sleep, Neil listened. 

Well, he tried to anyway. Staring up at the ceiling in his room of the Hotel Rexford, Neil tried to process everything he had learned from Kellogg’s mind. 

Flashes of Nathan consumed him for the better part of an hour, leaving him shaking and sweating and in a fit of panic that was unrelenting. 

He tried to focus himself, tried to figure out what he was going to disclose, what would lead to more answers but less questions. Neil was attempting to navigate territory he had no experience in, seeking out other people’s opinions and expertise for his survival. 

Sure, he’d gone with his mother to people who were skilled in helping others disappear. But they’d never asked questions, and they’d operated knowing they’d never have to see Neil again. 

The Foxes were different. They wanted to be a part of Neil’s life, to have Neil a part of theirs. It was unnerving and disorienting and scared the shit out of him. People had pried, had wanted to know more details than he could disclose for most of his time on the road. But, never had they wanted to bring him into their group. He didn’t know how to navigate it. 

He brought his attention back to what he knew solidly from Kellogg’s mind. 

He hadn’t always been a synth. At some point Kellogg was a real person, with a terrible father he’d run from as well, with a wife and a child that were murdered in the midst of his ego. 

Neil wondered if he’d grown up in the Wasteland if he would be much different from Kellogg. Reaching out, wanting things like comfort and family, only to ruin them and ruin himself in the end. 

Neil wondered if he was doing that now. 

He could disclose Kellogg’s past, even though it didn’t seem to be that important. It might make everyone more willing to believe he was giving them every detail he’d gathered. He decided on an abridged version to start off. He could redirect any questions anyone asked about details by disclosing more information on Kellogg’s past.

He’d give the piece about how Kellogg entered the Institute, and his history with the organization but leave out every mention of Nathan. More practically because he couldn’t have them linking Nathan and Neil together in any capacity, but also because he wasn’t sure he could say his father’s name without flinching. 

Morning light came through the dust caked windows of the Hotel Rexford as he made his last decisions. And Neil could hear the silence within the Hotel. 

He moved carefully in an attempt to combat his eagerness to get this story off his chest as quickly as he could. 

He found the Foxes in the Mayor’s office, though Mayor Hancock was no where to be found. 

Neil quickly realized he wasn’t the only one to be sleep deprived. It seemed that the whole group’s sleep schedule was off. Reneerubbed at her eyes as she stared out a map with Matt tensed behind her. She was sitting at a large round table off to the corner of the room, moving her finger this way or that and muttering lowly to Matt. His hand was flat against the table, supporting all of his weight as he yawned idly. Wymack sat across from them on the other side of the map. 

Aaron and Nicky were sharing a loveseat, Nicky with his head on Aaron’s shoulder. The twins had matching bas under their eyes, so deep they looked like bruises. But the similarities ended there. Aaron looked half-asleep as he supported his cousin and Andrew couldn’t have been more awake. 

Andrew was stationed on the long thin table towards the back of the room. He was next to Kevin, chattering on about something while he swung his legs back and forth. They appeared to be the only two people to get any sleep. Andrew’s activity Neil could contribute to his drugs, but Kevin was a bit of a surprise. Neil wondered what it took for him to fall asleep, before remembering the copious amount of alcohol he had consumed at the Combat Zone. 

Neil stayed at the threshold of the door, tensed and unsure. 

He’d decided already what he would disclose and what he would gloss over, but his story still contained more truth than he wanted. Even with leaving all of the details of Nathan out of it. 

Andrew watched him, but didn’t open his mouth to alert anyone of his presence. Neil was confused by his display for a moment, but it became clear to him as he stood waiting on the threshold. Andrew wanted to see how Neil worked his way into disclosing this information. 

Neil took a deep breath. He’d practiced what it was he was going to say, he’d thought about it carefully. All he needed to do was go slow and stick with his story. 

“I spent last night gathering information from a piece of Kellogg’s brain. Dr. Dobson implanted the memories in the Memory Den and I know his connection with the Institute.” It came out in a rush, unrelenting and unrehearsed. 

_Well, shit._ That was not a part of what Neil had decided in the slightest. 

Andrew started laughing immediately, but it was anything but joyful. Neil tried to imagine how many people had died on the receiving end of that sound. 

The Foxes look at Neil warily for a moment. Maybe it was the expression Neil was wearing on his face, or that faint out of breath rhythm his chest had. But they looked, _concerned_ , almost. 

Renee was the first to speak. “Maybe you should take a seat, Neil.” 

A seat. That sounded like a good idea. 

Neil sat unceremoniously at the only spare spot in the room, next to Andrew on the corner of the table. He looked down at his hands, surprised to find them steady. He just needed to adjust his face. 

“What is this about digging around Kellogg’s mind, kid?” Wymack prompted. 

Renee took over, and Neil—despite not trusting her—was grateful. 

“Betsy and I realized that the bit of machine Neil was able to dissect from Kellogg following his death was a memory inhibitor implanted by the Institute. As soon as we realized, Andrew must have put it together in his head and brought Neil to the Memory Den.” 

“You gave it right to him?” Aaron asked incredulously, one eyebrow shooting up. 

“Kellogg’s memories were his for the taking,” Andrew said calmly. He was smiling like a maniac but he was barely moving. It was strangely disorienting. 

Aaron must not have had a satisfying rebuttal to that, because he shut his mouth. 

“Are you here to share what you looked at?” Wymack asked. 

“Inside Kellogg’s brain?” Nicky asked half in wonder. He raised his head from Aaron’s shoulder and pitched himself forward over his knees. 

“You also don’t have to tell us anything,” Matt said, though he was looking at everyone else in the room in warning. 

“Of course he does,” Aaron said. 

“I agree with Aaron,” Kevin said. 

“I am, here to…” His voice stuttered, stalled, stopped before the word. “Here to _share_.” 

“Carry on then,” Wymack said.

“His memories focused mostly on his past from the time he was a child until he was in his early twenties. He had an abusive father and a mother who tried his best to protect him, but he ran away when he was still a kid. Just, _left_. It was a shitty existence on the run,” Neil was embellishing, he’d already decided on this part of the story. “Different people he couldn’t trust, never getting close to people, leaving before he could make any impact or draw any attention. He ended up meeting someone, Sarah, was her name and they had a daughter together.” He swallowed. “Mary was her name. He hated it, being a father, because he was filled withtoo much guilt. He knew they were both better off without him, and he was right. A bad deal with another mercenary had them killed in cold blood.” 

“Are we supposed to care?” Nicky asked.

The question caught him off-guard for some reason. He wasn’t sure why he thought he could hide behind the details of Kellogg’s personal life, and he hadn’t accounted for anyone not wanting to hear this part of the story he’d managed to piece together. It was the truest part of what he had to offer, after all. He was floundering fast, and the longer he spent trying to find an answer the more he started to panic. 

It seemed like he could barely contain any more secrets in his being anymore. They were bubbling up around him, desperate to be released.Neil was losing his capacity to keep his cool. 

It was Renee who answered. 

“Surely, being sympathetic towards the man doesn’t diminish our ability to criticize the things he’s done. Wouldn’t you say, Nicky?” 

Nicky grumbled something that got lost in the stare Neil had leveled on Renee. She was pointedly not looking at him, understanding of the space he needed. 

“Did you seek Riko at all?” Kevin’s voice was quiet. It was the first thing he'd asked since Neil began his story. 

“Riko?” Neil asked, his face betraying his confusion as he turned his attention to Kevin. “No.” 

Kevin looked carefully at his face and seemed satisfied by whatever he found there. 

“Riko and the Institute have a bit of history,” Kevin said. It seemed like this was mostly for Neil’s benefit, as this news didn’t surprise anyone else. “His biological father Kengo runs it.” 

“The Institute?” Neil asked. He had to clarify. 

Kevin nodded. 

“The Brotherhood is also run by the Moriyamas. Tetsuji, Riko’s uncle, he is the main leader for the Brotherhood across the country. Riko is running things in Boston, but make no mistake, the master is in charge of the Brotherhood overall.” 

“So what’s any of this have to do with the Institute?” 

Kevin sighed and ran his hand over his mouth like he knew he shouldn’t be saying the words out loud. “There are two branches to the Moriyama family. It’s been that way since before the war. There is the main branch, and the side branch. Riko and Tetsuji are the side branch.” 

“And the Institute is the main branch?” 

“Exactly. Riko’s father heads the main branch, but they are estranged. Riko is the second-born and that doesn't fly with the main family. He was cast off to the side branch, where Tetsuji was running the Brotherhood. He’s always been entrepreneurial, and as long as the side branch didn’t get in the way of the main branches goals, they were free to do as they please. Before the war that meant they didn’t get in the way of their criminal activity, but once the bombs dropped criminality because subjective. The main branch focused on technological advancement and isolated themselves. It didn’t take long for the Institute to be born. The Brotherhood was born out of necessity of survival, and the desire for wealth.

“The Brotherhood has mostly kept to itself. It originally began in Capital Wasteland. Slowly they have been moving here. But the Institute isn't concerned with settlements and raiding or any of that. They are concerned with making themselves the most powerful and impervious human beings alive. For the Institute, people that live in the Wasteland are doomed to a fate worse than death. So, there is no need to claim settlements as their own.” 

“Yet, they send synths,” Neil pointed out. 

“For research. To get human test subjects, to see how they can improve their own lives.” 

“So, it is only here that the Brotherhood has taken an anti-Institute mentality?”

“The Institute only exists in the Commonwealth. In a secure facility away from the contaminated world of the wasteland.” 

“But Riko is challenging them?” Neil asked, a little incredulous. “Why?” 

“He still thinks he can catch his father’s attention,” Kevin said. He didn’t shy away his gaze from Neil, but he did look rather uneasy as he spoke. 

“I don’t know where they are, but I was there, in Kellogg’s mind.” 

Kevin’s eyes went wide. In fact everyone in the room looked at Neil as though they were astonished. 

“There are hundreds of them,” Neil said. “Synths designed specifically to kill.” 

“Not all synths are designed to kill,” Renee pointed out. 

“These ones were,” Neil said defensively. “They were created in the exact image of the person who killed my parents.” 

It was too close to the truth for him to admit, even in the heat of the moment. He bit down on his tongue as hard as he could, blood rushing into his mouth a delayed moment later. 

“That’s intense,” Matt said. It was as if he was just trying to distract everyone from looking at Neil, and it did work mostly. Renee looked politely away the moment she realized, but Kevin and Andrew wouldn’t look away. The continued staring at Neil until he opened his mouth once again. 

“Besides, I may not know where it is. But I do know how Kellogg used to get there.” He waited a beat, gauging the expressions around him. They looked overwhelmingly skeptical. It was such a familiar look that it was almost a comfort, Neil let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Teleportation.” 

Wymack’s eyebrows shot up, but otherwise no one reacted. 

“That makes sense,” Renee said after a moment. “No one has ever found an entrance to the Institute, because there isn’t one.” 

“So, we build a teleporter?” Nicky asked, looking around at everyone else’s face. “Is that a thing we can do?” 

It was Matt who answered. “We have a partial plan back at the Railroad. It was something we took from a raid on one of the old military bases. But there will be more that we need.” 

“You’ll also need a strong enough power source, multiple generators at least. And the space to transmit. Somewhere big, open, that won’t draw a lot of attention either. There are other technical things to worry about, too,” Aaron supplied. He sounded disinterested, but Neil was pretty sure that was the most he had ever heard Aaron speak. 

“And men,” Kevin added. “It will need to be heavily guarded.” 

“Sanctuary,” Matt said. “It’s the most secluded base we have that isn’t all the way up Far Harbor, and it has additional men to support.” 

“And the other part of the plans?” Wymack asked. 

“There’s a lead the Railroad has been waiting to follow for some weeks now,” Renee supplied. “Now seems like a good time to carry it out.” 

This was happening too fast, Neil realized suddenly. Plans were being solidified around him, but he couldn’t go to the Institute. He couldn’t very well enter into any place that had a hundred Nathan’s waiting for him. 

The rest of the conversation was lost to him as his own thoughts swirled around the anxiety he’d been trying to ignore. 

He didn’t realize that they had made any decisions about anything until Andrew was gripping his elbow. For a moment, Neil was distracted by the heat that focused itself out of Andrew’s fingertips. He could feel exactly where they were placed on his arm, thumb pressing firmly at the bottom of Neil’s bicep, with his other fingers outstretched along the back of his elbow. His body was closer than Neil had noticed before, but he hadn’t seen him move at any point during the meeting. His knee pressed against Neil’s with the same harshness his hand was squeezing with. 

Neil looked at him carefully, but he didn’t find Andrew staring back at him. Instead Andrew was watching the conversation intently. 

As Neil looked at everyone else in the room, he found Wymack staring curiously between the two of them. He seemed about ready to say something, but Kevin’s strategizing pulled him from his commentary. 

“Until Matt and Renee return with the plans, we don’t have much to go on,” Wymack pointed out as Kevin waited for a response from the team he wouldn’t find. 

“We should send a courier with the trading route to the Sanctuary, and send word along to Allison in Diamond City as well. We’ll need everyone we can to pull this off.” Wymack’s lips were tight as he looked around the room. “We all know that we are vastly undermanned. No need to sugar coat it. Anything else you found that could be useful?” he asked this question of Neil. 

“Kellogg’s memories were implanted into a synth body, that’s partly how he was able to live under such extreme circumstances. It also made him easier to control. The Institute can do this with just about anyone, implant their memories into a synth. They take on the personality of that person. And they can do it across multiple synths.” 

Andrew still had his hand on Neil’s arm. It was becoming difficult to pay attention for an entirely different reason and it was torture not to look at him. Neil was never sure why Andrew did the things he did, or what those things meant. But he wanted to know now. Was Neil accidentally giving away too much information? Was he making it more difficult for Andrew to keep his word? 

Wymack nodded, waited a second to see if there was more before barking out his next order. 

“You all are dismissed until further notice. Matt and Renee should move out within the hour.” 

Almost everyone moved with new purpose. 

Nicky insisted on making it to Diamond City, pulling Aaron along eagerly despite his resistance. And Matt and Renee were engrossed in conversation with Kevin as they hurried out of the room. 

Wymack sat staring. Andrew had finally dropped his hand. And for a moment it was as though Wymack and Andrew were having their own conversation in their head. 

“You know what?” Wymack said suddenly, sighing as he got up. “Never mind.” 

He left the room without another word. 

“Kind of strange,” Neil commented once he left. He continued staring out the door, waiting for Wymack to reappear and start a conversation with them. 

Andrew shifted on the table, turning to face Neil. The leg that had been pressed against Neil was angled between the two of them. His knee was only half an inch from Neil’s hip. 

It was the first place Neil’s eyes dropped as he turned back towards Andrew. 

“Interesting tactic,” Andrew commented. 

Neil looked up at Andrew’s face. 

“Tactic?” he echoed. 

Andrew didn’t respond. 

“You mean telling them what happened?” 

Andrew still didn’t respond. 

“They could makes more sense of the information than I could have. Sometimes it is worth it give up some of the information you have to get quicker answers.” Neil felt his face twitch as he said the words. 

Andrew let out a breathless sort of laugh. It was absent of humor, all drug induced delirium. 

“You almost believe that, don’t you?” 

It was unnerving, sometimes, the way Andrew could set him straight with only a few words and an unrelenting stare. 

Neil swallowed. His throat was dry, though he couldn’t identify why. He wasn’t in any direct danger. He wasn’t sure when exactly he stopped thinking Andrew was dangerous, but it hit him all at once then. 

“Truth is meaning less and less to me lately.” 

It was a genuine sentiment. Neil was beginning to question if any of his mother’s advice could help him here. If the Brotherhood had the hold Kevin said they did across the country, he didn’t have much a chance regardless of where he went. Especially if the Institute and the Brotherhood were run by the same family. They could find him anywhere. They _would_ find him anywhere. 

Neil was starting to wonder what he was bothering to survive for. 

“It’s waning,” Andrew said. 

“What is?” 

“My patience for your flippancy.” 

At this Neil was surprised. It must have shown clearly across his face, but Andrew didn’t react. “What do you mean?” 

“Get your story right. Do you want to live or not?” 

“Obviously, I want to live.” 

“Is it?” Andrew asked, an eyebrow raised. “Obvious, that is.” 

“It’s not a matter of wanting to live or not. It’s not that simple.” 

“So make it that simple. Take out the other variables.” 

“My death isn’t in my control.” 

“But that’s not what you care about.” 

Neil narrowed his eyes, suddenly getting pissed at Andrew’s uncanny ability to push his buttons. 

“Then why don’t you tell me what I’m supposed to be caring about?” 

“Mmm,” Andrew said, nodding emphatically even though it was clear he wasn’t listening to Neil’s words. He pulled two cigarettes carefully from his jacket pocket, using a spare match to light the one pressed between his lips. 

He handed the other cigarette to Neil. 

The fire ate up the entire match before Neil could light his cigarette, and Neil blew it out before it could singe Andrew’s fingertips. For a second, Andrew stared murderously at Neil. But in the next second the look was gone, and Neil noticed intent and curiosity peeking behind the drugs clouding Andrew’s eyes. 

Andrew moved closer, cigarette still pressed between his lips. He pressed the tip of his cigarette to Neil’s. Neil’s eyes went wide. It was so unexpected he was stunned still. 

“You’re going to want to breathe in,” Andrew murmured around the cigarette in his mouth. Neil could feel Andrew’s breath along his lips, tickling down his neck. 

Neil listened obediently and sucked in. Andrew pulled back the instant Neil’s cigarette was lit, and blew a long stream of smoke in Neil’s face. 

It was strangely calming, which was a good thing, because Neil felt like he suddenly couldn’t take a full breath. 

“That’s something you need to decide,” Andrew said after a minute of silence. Neil had barely started his cigarette, but Andrew was already standing to leave. 

“Wait,” Neil said. He raised a hand in front of Andrew but didn’t dare to touch him. 

He looked up at him slowly. 

“Out of my space,” Andrew said. His voice was even, low, if not a little tense. Neil knew it was another test. He lowered his hand slowly, carefully not to get even a centimeter closer as it dropped to his side. 

“You know its getting hard for me to tell if you’re as stupid as you act, or if that’s another lie.” 

Neil heard the threat hidden underneath the statement. “And if you can’t tell?” 

“It’s another reason to bury you in the nearest ditch.” 

Neil smiled. “A ditch, huh? That’s generous of you. Next you’ll be telling me you’ll keep my body all in one piece.” 

“No promises.” 

“Who knew Andrew Minyard could be so altruistic.” 

It was meant as a joke, but it rang strangely in Neil’s ears. Not for the first time Neil wondered who was watching Andrew’s back as he went around protecting everyone else. 

“This conversation is a waste of time. And I’m bored,” Andrew said. He started towards the door once more. 

“I’ll be more entertaining next time,” Neil called after him. 

It wasn’t quite a promise, but Neil was smiling despite himself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will not be up until 1/28. Looking like a two week schedule is easiest to adhere to as I get back into the swing of writing this fic. 
> 
> I appreciate all comments and feedback!! Thank you!!


	20. Tactical Thinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the team goes on a mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's been a while... 
> 
> I'd like to start by saying THANK YOU to the amazing response I got on the last chapter. I feel like everytime I make a chapter I'm super proud of, the one right after it is almost impossible to get out. I appreciate everyone's patience on this one. 
> 
> There's some Andrew half-way, not really, kind of addressing his feelings for Neil here? But mostly it is setup for a Renee/Neil ass kicking chapter. 
> 
> Don't have much else to say! Please comment with any questions, suggestions, etc. Thank y'all for your patience.

It took careful training to feel nothing. 

The anger had been the worst of it to get rid of, surprisingly. It had been a default for a long while, until finally that had been shut off as well. 

This was all before the jobs, before the drugs. And then, with the drugs, it pumped so much false euphoria through Andrew’s veins that he couldn’t touch his emotions even if he wanted to. 

In some ways, Andrew could recognize that the drugs had made it easier. Another piece of himself removed from his experience. He hated it, but it was also an escape he’d craved for so long. 

Like now, staring at Josten with his stupid mutt at his side. He was fitting a pair of goggles around the dog’s head, adjusting them this way or that as he surveyed him. Dogmeat barked in happiness, licking fiercely at Neil’s hands as he tried to adjust the dog’s armor. 

He wanted to look away—knew that he wanted to stop watching, or that he _should_ stop watching. But he just kept at it, eyes locked only on Neil, ignoring everyone else in the room. 

It was the mission talk that had Andrew feeling particularly restless. This, he was most thoroughly convinced of. A new shipment of supplies had come through Goodneighbor, and everyone was playing around with the new equipment. But it was Neil that had it the worst. 

Watching Neil gawk over the tech walkthrough of their mission was, beyond any reasonable doubt, the most infuriating thing Andrew had been subject to.

The fact that it also bordered on the not so fine line of erotic, was something Andrew chose to acknowledge with barely a passing thought. 

It was the drugs, he’d decided only moments after a flash of Neil’s savage smile two days ago had sent a rush of heat through his veins. The drugs, after all, had him fixated on anything that caught his attention for even a moment. Each of the feelings he had could be ascribed directly to the drugs themselves. 

After he’d decided that, it was easy to regard attraction for Josten as a game of sorts. A way to pass the time. He was almost amused at the form his brain was choosing to entertain itself. But he acknowledged it with the certainty that his personal feelings were removed from the situation and that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill Neil if he ever elevated from nuisance to threat. 

Andrew was also safe because Neil was fucking oblivious. Maybe that made it even more entertaining. Andrew tried not to think on it too deeply. 

It took Andrew about ten minutes of mission talk to go from mildly detached attraction to thick hatred. 

It was relatively straight forward—infiltrate an abandoned brotherhood outpost. The brotherhood was sloppy about cleaning up, but this space was in transition. Moving from a safe house to an interrogation facility. 

Outside of the institute, the Brotherhood had access to the most advanced technology. So it was no wonder the partial plans for teleportation would exist in a safe house at the center of the city.

A supply list and a blueprint. That’s all Renee had assured them she would need to figure out the rest. Genius as she was with wiring, she was confident, and no one had any reason to doubt her. 

Neil kept asking questions about the teleporter. So much so that it didn’t take long for Andrew to realize he’d never been exposed to one before. 

Andrew wondered if Neil realized how much he revealed in his questions; how much of himself he gave away. 

It was all: How much space? How long? Is it safe? Is there a guarantee the coordinates will work? How many can travel through at once? Can it be blocked? 

Some, like Nicky and Matt, were patient with Neil’s questions. 

Kevin was not. 

Of the many things Kevin was on-edge about, Andrew’s refusal to play the game was at number one. 

When Kevin’s voice pulled at his attention, Andrew didn’t even bother to shift his gaze to Kevin’s face. 

“Zero three hundred drop, northwest tower forty two degrees adjacent from the Prudential building. Six man squad, 4 on extraction, 2 on perimeter control. Josten and Day on frontal attack. Back sweep followed by Aaron and the synth.” He threw his head at Matt to clarify. “Renee and I on perimeter. Expected output in seventeen minutes, though really with Day’s anxiety and Josten pretending he doesn't have a limp and overcompensating, probably closer to fifteen twenty-nine.” 

He was distracted not deaf for God’s sake. He said as much to Kevin when he shot him a look. 

Neil turned his attention on Andrew for the first time since the god awful meeting began. It took a moment for him to realize the look coloring Neil’s features as awe. 

“Predictable,” Andrew muttered, bringing his gaze cooly over Neil’s face. 

“Load up, eat up, and sleep,” Wymack said as his last command. “You’ll be leaving in nine hours. Do whatever ritual you need to to prepare. Not every day we walk into a Brotherhood outpost to steal some blueprints.” 

He dismissed them, and encouraged everyone to take their pick of tactical gear before leaving the room. 

“Back here at 0130 to gear up,” Kevin ordered. His fingers stilled over the new guns that had been pulled from the shipment. 

There was slow movement to leave as everyone went off to their respective pre-mission spaces. Aaron hesitated in the doorway for only a moment before leaving Kevin, Andrew, and Neil sitting around the table. 

There was tension Andrew couldn’t quite place. It was true that no one had been quite sure how to address Neil’s recollection of Kellogg’s mind. It was also true that once Neil explained how to gain access to the Institute, that was all anyone had been able to focus on. 

Andrew knew he was hiding information about his parents. Kevin did too, if his current state was anything to go by. 

Kevin broke the silence first. “We need to work seamlessly on this mission.” 

Andrew kept his silence, a quick promise to himself made in haste. He refused to waste words on persuading Neil of this or that. He was much more interested in creating conditions where Neil was forced into decision making. Conditions much like the one in the room currently. 

He arched an eyebrow, prompting Neil to respond to Kevin’s thinly veiled acknowledgement of the distrust that had fallen away. 

“I want to.” 

Something honest. 

It surprised Andrew. 

Neil kept going. “I was serious when I said I want to fight along side you.” 

He didn’t look at Andrew. His entire focus was on Kevin, from the set jaw to his earnest eyes. 

Kevin flicked his eyes to Andrew quickly, but he was enraptured. 

Andrew could tell he didn’t have the words, didn’t have the words to express his new found confidence. 

Why Neil kept gaining the trust of Kevin, Andrew couldn’t understand. 

Kevin stood abruptly. “You’ll do well this time around,” he said. It was just barely a compliment, but Neil absolutely glowed at his praise. 

“Still waiting for you,” Kevin said to Andrew before leaving. He knew better than to wait for a response. 

Neil was still beefing even after Kevin left. It was so bright, it was an insult to Andrew’s eyes. 

“You look absurd,” Andrew couldn’t help goading. 

“Excitement.” 

“Fanaticism,” Andrew corrected. “You and the rest of the world have a hard on for Kevin Day.” 

“Not you.” 

_That’s reserved for someone else._ The thought was intruding in his mind before he could help it.

“That’s because I know him.” 

Neil stood, walking over to the weaponry that had been laid out for them on the adjacent table. 

“That was impressive, your recall for the mission details.” 

“I wouldn’t be worth my weight if I couldn’t recall basic facts.” 

“I didn’t realize you cared.” 

“I can’t keep correcting your misplaced assumptions. It’s exhausting.” 

Neil pulled a long-range tactical rifle from the wall and turned to face Andrew again. He walked over, and placed the gun on the table in front of him. 

“You’re the best shot here.” 

Andrew sat wordlessly. He wouldn’t give the same speech on flattery twice. 

“You won’t try. Why?” 

Andrew’s laugh had the uneven texture of rock salt. 

“You’d think for someone so violently self-destructive you’d throw yourself into any and every chance for a fight.” 

“Leave the psychoanalysis to Bee. You’re shit at it.” 

It was an evasion tactic and they both knew it. But Andrew knew that Neil understood when his drugs were speaking for him. 

“Been a while since I’ve seen you.” 

The implication was clear, but Andrew couldn’t be bothered to care. Neil would see him without the drugs soon enough. He avoided them during missions when he could, and since Kevin was leading this one it was the perfect opportunity to skip a dosage. 

“Follow Wymacks’ advice and be the good little cadet you are. You won’t be able to hold onto it much longer.” 

The reality of it had Neil silent for a moment. He knew, of course he knew that he couldn’t keep this. So, Andrew couldn’t understand what the purpose was of playing along, of following out orders. Why put yourself in situations where you risk your life, if you’re trying so desperately not to die? 

“I think I’ll stay here and choose my weaponry a bit longer,” Neil said finally. 

Andrew was standing and walking away before he had to be subjected to another word of it.

* * *

 

The first sign of trouble was the drop point, which actually ended up being forty _six_ degrees adjacent to the Prudential.

Low-range communication devices had been pre-programmed with a certain frequency range to prevent tampering. Aaron’s curses every few meters punctuated the team’s overall frustration. 

Andrew and Renee split for their agreed-upon posts as Kevin and Neil broke off for the main tower. Aaron and Matt flanked in, taking their east and west wings respectively, all coordinated movements and efficient footsteps. 

Kevin was calm, methodical, and, unlike his usual taunts during training, was silently supportive even as Neil fumbled though the excitement of the mission. When they reached the building, from an underground shaft in the parking garage, Kevin directed Neil to the upper floors while he took the lower ones. 

What Andrew could hear over the receivers was filled with static, but the steady breathing of Neil taking stairs more quickly than the mission called for, kept him focused. 

Kevin gave short, concise updates with each floor he cleared, and with Neil still climbing that was about it. 

The information the railroad had gathered for the lead was supposed to be reliable, though he could tell from Renee’s composure on the walk over she was doubting its credibility. Matt, as well, held tension in his shoulders as they’d fanned out to begin. 

The building itself was nearly disintegrated. It hardly looked like a strong hold, though that was the point after all. Thirty six floors in total, but the top six were ripped off and exposed. From weather or fire damage, it was unclear. The destruction mirrored much of the buildings throughout the Commonwealth. Nothing out of the ordinary about exposed wiring, broken glass, and fragile framework. 

Aaron headed for the top floors behind Neil, Andrew watched as he wrenched open the doors to the elevator shaft in the northwest corner of the building. Then it was silence. No one had a clear eye on anyone, Andrew and Renee included. 

“Progress,” Kevin demanded over his microphone. 

“13 and climbing,” Aaron answered. 

“27,” Neil let out. He didn’t stop pushing himself, just continued climbing. 

“On 29, position yourself for entry at the conference room off the right. Wait for backup before entering.” 

“Copy.” 

As soon as Neil arrived on the 29th floor, Andrew locked onto his position through the scope. 

It took all of three minutes for Neil to turn risky, much to Kevin’s chagrin. Andrew watched from the roof of the building across the street, as Neil kicked open the door to the conference room without waiting for Aaron. 

“Idiot,” Kevin hissed over the intercom. 

“I won’t sit here in the open waiting to be blasted by the Brotherhood. It does us no favors,” Neil protested. “Besides there’s nothing here. All of the communications equipment has been ripped out of the wall. Scraped for parts by the looks of it.” 

“Approaching sub-level D,” Matt announced. 

“Updated orders?” Neil asked. He was rifling through some of the leftover equipment, too antsy to stay still. 

“About to enter sub-level D with Matt. Wait for Aaron to regroup and try access point C—floor 17,” Kevin directed. 

It was Renee’s voice that stopped everyone. 

“Soldiers approaching twenty-two degrees southwest. Perimeter compromised.” 

Andrew could see them come in from the ground, swarming the area surrounding the building like ants. He recognized the power armor of one Jean Moreau before he was shouting harshly into his headpiece. 

Andrew refocused his scope and shot at the five power-armored soldiers using their jetpacks to scale the building. They were rare to see in the commonwealth, but not so absurd for the Brotherhood to have access to. 

Aiming for the tanks to fuel the packs, he shot down two men before Kevin reached his decision on what to do. 

“Extraction team stays,” Kevin ordered harshly. “Aaron and Neil get down to the sub-levels for defensive tactics. Riko will focus all his manpower on stopping any information from coming out.” 

He didn’t give orders to Renee and Andrew, who both knew their job was to protect the defense at all costs. 

Andrew refocused his firing on the soldiers surgeon the from top the building, picking off anyone he could.

“Riko?” Neil echoed, a bit behind and bit stupid, as usual. 

Before anyone could address him, the door to the stairwell was being blown open, sending Neil for cover on the ground, gun in hand and firing. Only two men had made it up to him, the other shot down by Andrew. 

Neil’s bullets did little good against power armor. 

He held his own, but Andrew was only barely paying attention to the movements Josten was making. His primary concern was eliminating any and everyone with guns from the same vicinity as Neil, but without a clear shot, he was mostly scrambling through his scope. 

Kevin was shouting into the microphone, specific orders that were getting lost in the gunfire.

Andrew fired shots without hesitation, exposing his position along with the rest of his team. He unloaded two clips, providing cover fire until Neil could scramble for the elevator shaft. From there, it was up to Neil. 


	21. Getting Technical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Neil meets one Riko Moriyama.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up being 100% longer than I anticipated. Hope you all don't mind! 
> 
> Its also barely edited, so please be patient and point out any flaws as usual. I didn't have it in me to keep fussing around with it. 
> 
> Enjoy!!

This level of gunfire was not something Neil was accustomed to. When Nathan’s people came for you, they didn’t need to be loud and they definitely didn’t need to be showy. That’s precisely why silence had always tormented Neil. It was in the quiet air that the Butcher did his best killing. 

He certainly didn’t pay top people to dispose of his enemies because they were loud enough to be stopped beforehand. 

Neil had a helmet, and he had armor, but it wasn’t much, and it certainly didn’t stop him from running the hell away. It was his best reaction, and he wasn’t going to second-guess his survival skills. Not with four men coming for him, with more tactical training and numbers on their side. 

Fleeing only lasted long enough for him to make it to the opposite end of the hallway. He was stopped by another solider encased in thick power amor. Neil had to crane his neck the foot and a half difference to gaze into the man’s helmet. 

A metal hand reached out to grab around Neil’s throat and threw him hard against the wall before he could dodge. Before Neil was up, the soldier had hold of him again, his hand clutching at the breast plate covering Neil’s chest. He picked Neil up by the straps of his armor and threw him harshly against the ground, stepping into the toss for more power as Neil gasped for breath. 

He clutched desperately at the metal hand, trying to spare his neck as the grip tightened around it once again. They were hot, the fingers that crushed along his windpipe, and Neil felt the burn of air trying desperately to reach his lungs more intensely than the fear of being suffocated. 

Neil didn’t expect to be saved, but when the grip loosened, he hadn’t expected anyone other than Andrew. He thought the knife sliding into his attacker’s throat was attached to Andrew’s hand, but it was Renee who was responsible for the slackened grip around his throat. 

She wrenched back her knife and gripped it loosely. In the single action, Neil knew she was experienced. There was something weird that leaked between them in the moment—something so close to trust Neil can’t process it. Not trust in her necessarily, but assurance that they could each fight together without getting in the way. 

She wrapped her legs around the base of the man’s hips, leveraging the grip to scale his back and reach the space between his helmet and armor where the neck was exposed. It was a quick slice in between the two pieces, and she wrenched the knife back to end his life. The body crumpled underneath her, and she removed her grip before the force of the fall pinned her legs under the soldier. 

“Saves bullets,” she said simply as she wiped her blade on her thigh and before adjusting her grip. It was a long knife, the blade about half the length of her forearm, and she handled it well. She readjusted the strap of her gun over her shoulder and bent down towards Neil, her arm outstretched to support him up. 

“Where’s Andrew?” Neil asked as he stood. 

She fixed a small smile on him and stared for a moment before speaking. 

“Sniping from the roof. I’m on perimeter.” She hesitated a moment. “You know we both have your back, right?” 

“I just expected Andrew.” 

Her smile grew a fraction, sharper and more aware. “I’m sure you did.” 

Neil couldn’t quite name why her observation grated against his insides but it did. 

Renee was unconcerned, tucking a loose strand of hair back under her helmet before turning her attention back to the hallway. 

She split the attention of the soldiers coming towards them, maneuvering her body closer to the ground until she was close enough to break the wrist of the first soldier to storm them. His gun skittered across the floor as a harsh cry left his mouth. 

It was still three against two and with numbers still on their side, Neil refused to provide any additional advantage by being too stunned to move. He rushed forward, stopping a soldier before she could get the upper hand. Grabbing the barrel of the gun he was holding, Neil knocked it back into her face, stunning her long enough for him to throw it off to the side.

She swung for Neil, and Neil’s immediate reaction was to duck, leaving Renee defenseless behind him. It didn’t matter, ultimately, as the minute the punch came into the air around her she tightened one hand on the woman’s fist, the other on her wrist and twisted until the crack sent her shivering away in a shout. She pushed the woman back towards Neil to make room for the next soldier coming towards her. 

There was a relentlessness that went with watching Renee beat the shit out of a man twice her weight, and the added recklessness of joining in, of crunching shins beneath thick boots, of stomping a human to pieces until his last breath escaped.

It was so undignified, so senseless. Everything the butcher would have hated. 

So when the next body came, they both reserved their bullets, and though it didn’t take much for bodies to fall around them, they continued until something began to soothe the fire in their chests. 

He couldn’t know what Renee had burning within her but it was bright enough to compete with his own. He didn’t ask. He almost didn’t think to. 

The silence in the hallway prompted them to move, and it wasn’t until they were two flights down the stairwell that Renee spoke. Kevin had given clear orders to haul ass to floor 17, and they had limited time before retreating was their only option. 

They took the steps two at a time, Renee backwards, pivoting this way or that to check all the angles of the stairwell every few minutes.

“Kevin says you’re fairly good with hand to hand combat,” she said lightly as they continued making their way down the stairs. “I haven’t seen you in action before, but I would imagine we could make a fairly good pair the two of us.” 

“I’m not interested in teamwork.” 

“That’s a shame. It seems so natural for you.” 

It took a second for Neil to register the words, and he was immediately put on the defensive. Was she being sarcastic? It was next to impossible to tell. 

She didn’t bother to add anything to the statement. Whether it was meant as an observation, or an insult, Neil was unsure, and Renee had no interest in clarifying. She reloaded her gun as they turned the final set of steps to the seventeenth floor. 

“What’s the plan here, Kevin?” Renee asked. “Neil and I are waiting in the southeast stairwell to enter floor 17.” 

“Clear the floor in search of the plans.” 

Andrew’s muffled voice came over their headsets. “Six off the right of the hallway. No power amour.” 

It was what Renee needed to hear apparently. She turned her attention to Neil. 

“I know this information has been ruined since before we even arrived, but I am certain our plans are in this building. My intel says it would be in the main lab off the east side of the building. I’ll clear a path and you check it out, yeah?” 

Neil nodded numbly. 

She nodded back, determined and focused on the task at hand. It was more than Neil could say for himself. 

Six soldiers off the right of the hallway. 

It dawned on Neil suddenly that these were the men Kevin was afraid of. This was the faction he’d left behind in exchange for the protection of one Andrew Minyard. Neil took a steadying breath, adjusting his grip on his gun.

“I’ll lay cover fire, and you make a break for it,” she whispered before moving to the opposite wall. She placed her hands comfortably on her semi-automatic weapon, and kicked the door open before spraying her shots everywhere. Bullets be damned. 

Neil was off faster than the bullets from Renee’s gun, skidding along the hallway to get as far as possible as quickly as his legs could carry him. It didn’t last long, he;d just barely made it twenty feet down the hallway before their opposition decided to play smart. 

A woman came at him, thick tactical gear padding Neil’s punch to her chest so she barely recoiled. Renee was behind her in a second, breaking a forearm and slipping around her front. A well placed arm around the back of the woman’s neck gave Renee the stability she needed to wrap her legs around her chest. Renee dropped her body weight backwards, bringing the woman down on her back as she rolled on top of her. She shot the two men storming the opposite end of the hallway as she kept the woman pinned underneath her, and brought the gun flush against the woman’s head before pulling the trigger. 

Neil reacted just as quickly, spinning the soldier approaching him around until his back was flush against Neil’s chest, hands pinned behind him. It took a sharp elbow to the back of the head and the man was falling to the ground. Neil kept the grip on the man’s right arm, his foot coming to rest in the middle of the man’s back as he wrenched it out of the socket and brought a fist down to break it.

Groans were gargled by the quick jabs Neil was throwing, until they were silenced by a crushed windpipe. He was aided by his gun, which he leveraged to continue striking the man until he was unconscious.

With four down, the other two hesitated for too long in their approach. It was a quick round of bullets and very little physical energy that left Renee and Neil standing a little winded in the center of the hallway—six bodies fanned out around them. 

Renee threw a brilliant smile his way before continuing on towards the lab. 

Lab was an interesting word to chose for the space they entered. Neil thought as much as he surveyed the scattered equipment, overturned file cabinets and desks, and litter-lined floors. It was a large space, open but dark. Whatever the source of light had been at one time, had long since been destroyed. 

He didn’t have a whole lot of direction to go on as he began to rifle through some of the random files in the closest cabinet to the entrance, but he knew enough that if they wanted to find something they needed to do it quickly. 

The sound of company had both Renee and Neil stilled and tensed for a counterattack. 

Neil saw the flash of movement before the sound processed in his mind, but his reactions didn't fail him this time. A strong simple swipe out towards the direction of his attacker was enough to buy him the space he needed. 

Neil knocked his legs out from underneath him, but not before the man grabbed hold of Renee’s leg, brining her down as well. 

It wasn’t dignified, the moves Renee used to get upright, but it brought her in a position where she could dodge each punch thrown her way. She grabbed hold of the piping in the wall, wrenching it free before crashing it along the back of her attacker. A groan went out into the air and she struck twice more, swinging the pipe like a bat across the man’s neck until it disconnected from his spine. 

She threw the pipe down next to him, brushing the blood from her brow. Her right eyebrow was split open—a side effect of being slammed in the face with the butt of a gun.

“I’ve seen those moves before.” Neil pointed to her weapon. “How you use the pipe, its similar to Andrew.” 

“We train together. He teaches me things, I teach him. Something’s bound to stick after all that.” Renee moved to the filing cabinet a few feet down from Neil’s. 

“You two seem…” His brain couldn’t get a hold of the right word. It slipped around, refusing to stick to his tongue. “Close. The rest of the camp seems to think so, anyway.” 

“With Andrew, how you see his relationships are generally exactly how he wants you to see them.” There was a small smile on her face. 

Her comment had something nettle at the back of Neil’s brain. As soon as it formed a semi-cohesive thought, it escaped his lips. 

“What about Kevin?” 

“I’m sorry?"

“Kevin and Andrew’s relationship is...” His sentences hung and he couldn’t think of a word that described it properly. 

Renee was willing to wait. Instead of offering a suggestion for the missing word, she waited to hear Neil describe it. 

It felt like a test. 

“I mean, Andrew is really territorial. Kevin isn’t even his family.” 

“To Andrew he is.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

She looked for a moment like she was unsure whether to give Neil a hard time or concede. Ultimately, she went for the latter. 

“I do. Their relationship is special.” She paused before continuing, almost as if she wasn’t sure. “There’s something different with you, though.” 

“What do you mean?” His hands stilled on the papers in his hands. 

“No one can get a read on Andrew when it comes to you.”

Neil wasn’t sure exactly why that mattered. There wasn’t much to read between him and Andrew anyway, so why was anyone concerned? 

“Can you?” 

“I don’t need to.” 

Neil resisted the urge to keep talking only so long as he could stand the silence. It wasn’t very long after all. 

“Why not?” 

She looked at him, and there wasn’t a smile on her face anymore. She seemed a bit uncertain, but the words she chose were careful and purposeful. 

“I see what he sees when he looks at you. Well, just a small part of what he sees anyway.” 

Neil felt the blood rush down with his sinking stomach. Andrew knew details he was sure would have Renee asking more questions than he could handle. He had figured Andrew would have voiced his concerns over Neil’s backstory, he just hadn’t expected it to be to her. But that had been stupid of him to think. There was no loyalty Andrew had pledged to Neil, and regardless, Neil knew that loyalty was meaningless when it was weighted against protection. 

Renee continued speaking despite every fear rushing up Neil’s throat. “Everyone in the Commonwealth has killed, or at the very least brutally injured, someone else. But there are some of us that have done more than our fair share of killing. Matt, Dan, Allison, they’ve killed but—” She gave a small shake of her head. “Andrew and I are different. He claims he saw it, when you met.”

She looked straight at him, so sharply and so intense it nearly made him bolt. 

“The violence in your life wasn’t senseless and it wasn’t survival. It’s what built you, maybe the only constant you’ve ever had.” 

“This world is filled with that,” Neil said quickly, evasively. “People who do that.” 

“I’ve only ever known those kind of people.” She turned to look ahead, lost in her own memories. “Until recently anyway.” 

She was still looking at him intently. 

“What?” 

“You are good with hand to hand.” She shook her head, confusion coloring her features. “But you’re style is hardly polished. You’re not entirely untrained, but its rudimentary what you learned. Everything else is improvisation. I keep trying to piece together how you might’ve developed it.” 

“Give your critique to Kevin,” Neil said gruffly as he continued on down the hallway. 

“Not a critique,” Renee insisted. “You’re a better fighter than I’ve met recently. I’m just not used to it.”

Neil didn’t feel much like talking anymore. 

“He hasn’t told me anything.” Neil looked up at her, but she didn’t make him ask the question. “Whatever you may have confided in him is safe with him. He doesn’t do that sort of thing, hold people’s secrets against them.” 

He eyed her cautiously, and his discomfort grew as she looked deeply at him. He wasn’t sure if this was a tactic, this forced emotional bond she was trying to subject him to, but he wasn’t buying her sincerity. 

“I know you don’t feel comfortable around me. It’s the synth thing, probably. That’s what everyone keeps telling me. But you can sense it too, can’t you? The violence?” 

It was too much. Too many questions and too much prying and not enough space and no where to go. 

“I don’t trust you,” he blurted. 

“I’ve never expected you to.” 

She said it so honestly that Neil’s distrust immediately intensified. She was too lose with her truths, too forthcoming. He hadn’t bought her sincerity from the moment he met her, and he wasn’t about to turn his back on his instincts now. 

She was exactly the kind of woman his mother would have disdained, he realized. You could smell her facade as you stared into that too wide smile. 

“We found it.” 

Kevin’s voice brought Neil and Renee turning back towards each other. 

“Located and secured,” Matt confirmed. 

“We should head to the sub levels now,” Renee said. Into her mic she continued her thoughts. “Neil and I are on floor 17. We will regroup at the sub levels and pick our way out together.” 

“Copy.” 

Renee didn’t wait to move, she was out of the door back into the hallway, and quickening her pace as she led them towards the stairwell. 

She was exactly the kind of woman his mother would have disdained, he realized. You could smell her facade as you stared into that too wide smile. But it didn’t ruin her the way it did some other people. Neil wondered if she actually believed the act she was putting on, or if she knew how hopeless it was as well. 

“More coming your way Renee,” Aaron said through the relay device.

The warning came a moment before the soldiers did, and while Neil jumped out of the way before anything could take hold of him. Renee was not as fast, forced into a choke hold 

She grabbed his shoulder, bending to flip the soldier over her back. Hands wrapped loosely around the back of his head as he tried to get up. Renee brought a lazy knee snapping forward into his face. In the release, Renee pulled the soldier further, so his face crunched once again against the thick concrete of the wall. His neck snapped on impact. 

A leg came up near Renee’s head just as she turned around to look at Neil. Renee gripped the second soldier’s knee fluidly, twisting around with it still in her grip. The motion threw the soldier’s entire body forward, knees breaking the fall. Renee brought her palm sharply on the back of the knee as the soldier attempted to stand, the crunch of the bone breaking singing out in to the air as easy as the moan from their lips. She turned to face them as a misaimed swing barely grazed her chest, and drove the knife through the soldier’s neck, not loosing her grip until they fell under her. 

Her hands searched the body quickly, pulling on various pockets for any spare supplies. She threw a clip at Neil before standing and continuing on down the hall. 

She was a resourceful fighter. More so than he had been, more than Mary even. Neil had been taught to fight for honor, forced to fight for survival. But Renee was a good fighter because she’d molded herself to be one. 

There was no element in her enemies attacks she was surprised by. Every move meant a subtle adjustment, and she did so with ease. 

When they turned the corner to a gun being pulled, she had yanked it out of the man’s mismanaged grip, and a well placed elbow to the shoulder had him down on the ground and bullet in his head in the next second. 

“I hate being wasteful,” she muttered as she passed the gun to Neil. She dug around in the man’s pockets before pulling out a wide blade about the length of her hand. 

She held the knife out for Neil. 

“I don’t want it.” 

She bit her cheek, looking like she wanted to say something important but didn’t want to overstep her boundaries. 

The knife stayed in the air for another moment before she quickly tucked it away. 

“We should keep moving. From Kevin’s update it seems like the Brotherhood will be splitting their manpower. Half will focus on the sub levels, while each quarter works on securing the facility. We can expect to meet a fourth of those men on our way down.” 

They moved silently down the stairwell, quickly and effectively. 

Neil had received careful training on the importance of keeping your mind clear while you were trying to outrun an enemy. Some fear was good—though Neil was pretty sure Mary made this allowance because she was too paranoid to ever remove even a small part of it—but the mind should stay focused on tangible things related to escape and survival only. 

These conversations—the wondering about Andrew, about Kevin, about what Renee knew or didn’t know or didn’t want to say—was at the same time outrageous and familiar. 

Neil had never been quite able to follow his mothers rules. That’s probably why he got knocked on his ass when he least expected it. 

It was on the fifth flight down that the door to the stairwell blew open and knocked Neil halfway down the next flight of stairs. 

His hands gripped out for some purchase on the rusted railing, skin ripping along the tops of his fingertips. Neil threw his body weight against the wall as best he could in an attempt to stop his momentum, feet slipping along the steps to stop himself completely. 

Gunfire ricocheted down the stairwell, misplaced aim attributed mostly to Renee who was successfully pinning whoever had come to charge them. They disappeared back into the hallway on the opposite side of the door, the landing strangely quiet as Neil started back up. 

Renee, meanwhile had her hands full getting the wind knocked from her chest as the metal arm of power amor threw her back against the wall. She crumbled, falling onto her back and staggering as she struggled to keep moving. The foot of the soldiers power armor came down fast, and she only barely rolled away before it could cave in her skull. A hand clamped around her ankle, crushing the bone audibly as the solider pulled her upside down. Renee dangled in the air, blood rushing to her head so her movements were slowed even further. But it was hard for Neil to keep an eye on what was happening to her when there were two more soldiers rushing him.

Neil moved down the steps two at a time, desperate for the even footing of the landing of the floor below. He had his knife drawn in one hand, pressed tight against this gun to steady his aim or slit a throat as needed.

Power armor was the first thing he realized about his opponent. Somewhere in midst of the two other soldiers coming towards him and Renee being shoved back into the hallway, the soldiers had switched places. He was dealing with the power armored man now. His brain made the connection just as his body hit the wall a second time. The force of it had a rush of vomit creeping up the back of his throat. 

There was barely time to swallow it down before he was trying desperately to duck, to grab, to claw out with his hand for just long enough to create space. He was ripped forward by his forearm, swung into a different hallway where he rolled along the ground after being thrown again. 

There was a gun to the back of his head before he could scramble himself up. 

It had been some time since he’d felt the presence of a gun to his skull. And even then, it had been training his mother had been responsible for. 

She made him practice how to disarm someone with a gun every single night without fail. It was the closest thing they’d had to a tradition. 

None of the scenarios had involved power armor, or teeth scrapped against concrete. Though really, she only could have possibly prepared him for one of those things. 

“Hold your fire, Jean. It seems we’ve had a very specific kind of enemy approach us.” 

It wasn’t a voice Neil had heard before, but the moment he saw Riko he knew who he was. There was an air that men with power held themselves under, and Riko stood like he was dripping in it. The sheer intensity of his stance almost threw Neil off. 

“We’ll need to be alone for our conversation,” Riko said. 

His words weren’t particularly loud, or forceful, but they too seeped dominance into the air. 

Jean was following the command instantly, moving back out the door and down the hallway. Neil didn’t know much about Jean, besides what he’d seen when they’d first run into each other, but it was strange to watch a man nearly twice Riko’s height react so sharply to his every word. There wasn’t a shred of hesitation in the taller man’s body. 

Though he watched Jean retreat in his peripherals, Neil kept his eyes carefully trained on Riko.

“Neil?” Kevin’s voice stuttered on the line.

Jean wasn’t the only one that Neil didn’t want to hear this conversation. He adjusted the transmitter on his tactical gear to mute himself from the rest of the foxes. 

“Neil Josten.” 

Riko said Neil’s name like a secret he was privy to, and immediately Neil’s blood felt like it hardened in his veins, weighing him down somehow. “Interesting choice. Your mother come up with that one or were you finally old enough to come up with one yourself?” 

“That’s my name,” Neil insisted. His words were sure, if not a little tense. 

Riko ignored him. There wasn’t anyone around them, and his words bounced off Riko without significance. Without an audience Riko didn’t much care about the yapping of a teenaged boy. His entire demeanor made that much clear to Neil in seconds. 

“I didn’t think you’d let me catch you _this_ easily, Nathaniel.” His laugh was melodic and cold.“I’ve been forewarned about your stupidity but even I thought you had more self-preservation.”

“My name is Neil.” 

“You aren’t stupid enough to lie to me again, but I will warn you one last time.” He waited a beat for Neil’s rebuttal. When he found silence, Riko continued speaking. “Now, as for your appearance into the Commonwealth. Imagine my surprise when we went to check on Vault 111 and found your cryo-pod opened.” 

He should have destroyed the entire place, should have erased his information from the computer system, done something, _anything,_ to hide his tracks better. He ignored the part of his mind that told him they obviously already knew who he was before he’d woken up—that obviously Riko and the Institute and whoever else had been keeping him there all this time, watching him.

“And then, to hear all about your adventures along the Commonwealth after Jean ran into you.” Riko let out a small cluck of his tongue. “All this time and you haven’t even tried to say hello. I’m sure Kevin and that pathetic little band of insurrectionists told you by now who I am. I bet you know my name, my rank…” There was a sharp smile playing at his lips, somehow making them look even thinner. “My _family_.” 

“Riko Moriyama,” Neil said. It took only a second after he whispered the name for his defense to kick on in the form of his mouth moving without his mind’s permission. At the smug look on Riko’s face, Neil felt inspired. “Sure. Kevin’s told us plenty about your infinite daddy issues. I see his description of your ego isn't far off the mark either. Shame that such a powerful leader of the Brotherhood should feel so insecure about himself that he needs reassurance from any passerby on his ties to a family he doesn’t speak to.”

Riko unsheathed the tanto blade at his hip, cut away at the strap of Neil’s helmet and pushed it aside to clear his face, before using the saya that had sheathed the blade to knock Neil’s head back. It took mere seconds. The impact of it stung at Neil’s eyes. 

“I see you’ll need to be trained on how to stay silent.” 

Neil rubbed at his cheekbone that he was sure was already bruising under the impact. 

“They’ve tried it before. Training didn’t stick.”

Riko let out another laugh, but ran the flat edged of his blade underneath Neil’s chin. He wasn’t much taller, maybe two inches or so. Neil felt like he was staring up another twenty feet.

“My methods have a very high success rate. You’d be surprised what a Brotherhood soldier has to endure just for the chance at the frontlines. And I don’t even intend to have you fight.” 

“What do you want with me?” Neil asked. 

“Playing dumb won’t help you, Wesninski.” If hearing his first name had Neil shaking in fear, hearing his last had his knees buckling, wind blown clear out of him. Riko hardly seemed to notice. “You’re the butcher’s son. You’ve cost my family issue enough, you may as well prove yourself useful to me. The money you and your mother took belonged to my family. They'd be so pleased to see you standing here alive today.” 

“I figured at some point he’d worked with your family, but the money I stole was his. I didn’t mean to inconvenience anyone—”

“Worked _with?”_ Riko asked harshly. His laugh was cruel. “Now I know you are trying to insult me.” At the confused look on Neil’s face, Riko laughed harder. “What a sad case you are, Nathaniel. The Moriyamas didn’t work _with_ the Butcher. He worked _for_ us. It wasn’t a fucking inconvenience, you and your mother were fucking with my father’s business.” 

“That’s not—” Neil’s words were cut off by his own confusion. “That doesn’t make any sense. The Butcher didn’t work for anyone, he ran an entire syndicate out of DC.” 

The steely amusement left Riko’s face. “You’re kidding me. All this time running, everything with your pathetic coward of a mother and you never bothered to consider _who_ you were running from?” 

“My father was enough of a reason to run.”

“Your father was nothing but a lacky. Do not continue to insult my family by playing dumb.” 

Riko let his words seep in. As ineloquent as they were, they got the point across clear.

“I didn’t know anything.” 

“I already warned you about lying to me. Your insistence on ignorance is grating on my nerves,” Riko said. He reached out for Neil’s neck, using it to steady his aim as his other hand brought the tanto blade cutting through his shoulder blade. He let go as Neil dropped to his knees, clutching at his wound as he gasped sharply. Riko’s movements were fast, lighteningly so, and so practiced Neil wondered briefly if the Moriyamas had trained Riko the same way the butcher had when Neil was a child. 

He held the knife tauntingly against his chin again, the blade caressing the skin as it dragged along the surface of his jaw. 

“I’ll take your tongue right from your mouth without so much as blinking.” He leaned in close to Neil, so the words tickled Neil’s neck as he whispered them. “Your father taught me how.”   


“I don’t believe you.” It needed to be said. Neil felt it erupt out of his throat. 

“I don’t particularly care about your individuals beliefs. I care about your ability to carry out orders and bring Kevin back to the place he belongs at the Brotherhood’s hand.It’s time to start repaying your debts, Nathaniel. Starting with me.”

“That’s what you want me for?” It was Neil’s turn to be incredulous. “You’re fooling yourself if you think Kevin has any regard for my opinion of who he should fight with.” 

“Kevin knows who you are,” Riko explained carefully, as though he was speaking to a child who was struggling desperately with comprehension. “He knows the power you bring to that team because of your father, and he knows the connection you have with the Institute is invaluable. Convince him, or we turn you over to your father. It’s fairly simple.” 

It’s every worst nightmare all at once as Neil envisioned the most likely way the entire scenario would play out. He imagined being dragged to the Butcher, to the Butcher’s _boss._ Imagined each of the synths being unleashed upon him, over and over, as they healed him with stimpaks to keep the torture going. 

Panic forced his chest to constrict, and it was strange that the only solace Neil can find is in the blade against his chin. The coldness grounded him—so different from the hot flashes blades had cursed his body with in his youth. His eyes went wide, but he couldn’t look away from Riko. He was choking suddenly—on his tongue or his throat or his stomach which was suddenly in his mouth—he couldn’t be sure. It cut the short, sharp breaths that were ripping his lungs apart, so that he felt lightheaded and short on air. He didn’t know how to stop, barely recognized that it was a panic attack at all. 

His mother used to hit him when he got like this. She used to jolt him out of this so they could keep running. But now she was dead, and couldn’t offer a strong word or a firm hand to snap him out of it. She couldn’t even tell him to focus on the person _right in front of him._ To get it together because Riko could change his mind at any moment, could drag him right now out of the building and into the Institute. Riko could deliver him to his father. To his father, and the copies of his father, and the other copies that waited. 

Riko continued staring down at him, finding neither amusement nor satisfaction in Neil’s reaction.

There was a loud crash from the hallway that Neil didn’t even register. Matt forced his way into the room a moment later, gun drawn and pointed at Riko. Riko barely moved. He continued staring Neil down, not nearly concerned with Matt. 

“Don’t be stupid now,” Riko said softly, pressing the blade taut to Neil’s neck. “Lower your weapon.” 

Matt didn’t hesitate. His gun was down at his side the moment Riko issued the order. 

Riko pulled Neil up by the straps of his breast plate before pushing him away. Neil went careening towards Matt so that he barely had the balance to support himself. Matt set him upright before readjusting his gun, fixing firmly back on Riko.

“Go back to Kevin. You’re worth more to me alive right now, but make no mistake: that doesn’t mean you need to be in working condition. I’ll rip you apart and keep you alive just for the sake of it.” He flicked an apathetic look to Matt before he said his final words to them. “Your search here is over. Be thankful you are leaving with your lives.” 

Before turning around to leave, he tapped his ear. “You might want to communicate that to your team.” 

Matt seemed conflicted on what to do, continuing to aim at Riko until it became clear he wasn’t going to take a shot. It would be easy, Neil supposed to kill him right there. It wouldn’t take more than a well-aimed bullet. Neil couldn’t begin to imagine how quickly the rest of them would be right along with him though, as the Moriyamas reigned down on them. 

“Should you relay to Kevin, or do you want me to?” Neil asked just to break the silence. 

Matt didn't answer him, just provided a quick update to the rest of team. Neil popped the radio back into his ear so he could hear Kevin’s next orders. Andrew was silent on the line. 

“How is he?” Kevin asked. 

“Alive,” Neil answered before switching off the relay. He didn’t much want to hear Kevin’s voice at the moment. 

“Mostly in one piece,” Matt elaborated as he examined Neil more closely. “Christ, Neil. He sliced you open.” 

Whatever Kevin said had Matt pulling his earpiece out as well. 

“I guess I didn’t make a great first impression, huh?” 

Matt looked at him incredulously. “We need to get a stimpak, or some kind of bandage for that.” 

“I’m fine,” Neil said as casually as he could muster. 

Matt gave him his best unimpressed face before shouldering his gun.

“I know you don’t like people touching you.” Matt glanced down at his own hands. “Synths even less. If you won’t take the stimpak, let me bandage it quickly.” To appeal to what little of Neil he could understand, he quickly added, “It will allow the whole team to get out of here easier if you aren’t leaving a bloody trail to trace back to our camp.” 

Neil agreed reluctantly, on the condition he not take off his shirt, and Matt quickly busied himself dislodging medical supplies from his belt before detailing their position and timing to the others. 

Matt was effective—tightly wrapping the bandages to stop blood flow, a steady hand to keep from disrupting the muscle as he continued wrapping under and over Neil’s shoulder. He wrapped it over Neil’s clothes, at Neil’s insistence, and even still, it was a mostly effective endeavor. 

“Diamond City,” Matt said, jolting Neil from where he watched Matt’s forearms flex as he finished tying the bandage. “Those are Kevin’s next coordinates. We should get going. We’ve still got 15 flights to take down before we even get the fuck out of this place.” 

Neil threw him a weary look. “No one is concerned about going through Back Bay?” 

“I’m shocked that’s your concern right now.” Matt fixed him an intent look. Neil fought his body not to squirm under the intensity of it. “Though I suppose I shouldn’t be. You keep surprising me.” 

“Surprising like a heart attack.” 

They were words his mother had used to describe him, though she’d been a bit more liberal on the expletives.  


Matt let out a bark of laughter. “Something like that.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter has some interesting developments...
> 
> Allison did a very Allison thing and now Neil is pissed  
> Andrew halfway explains his behavior to Kevin  
> Andrew tells Neil to stay
> 
> Sidenote: I know I don't update all that frequently, but I have zero intention of abandoning this fic! I know the anxiety of waiting on the author to update their fics, but I swear I need this story to continue to its end just as much as you guys do. 
> 
> Hit me up on tumblr should you desire: @gladiatorgrl 
> 
> As usual, comments and kudos are always always appreciated!!!


	22. Fire Support

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Minyard brothers come in for backup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is brought to you by a variety of things: 
> 
> Mexican airports, autobús rides to Puebla, a boatload of mezcal from Guerrero, Kanye’s “Power”, los piramides del sol y la Luna, Chicago’s “25 or 6 to 4”, mixiote de anejo (in which I envisioned Neil as a rabbit whilst eating rabbit...), sunburn, altitude sickness and dehydration, Schubert and Chopin and too much Black Sabbath with a dash of “El Baño”, and that one scene from American horror story where Lady Gaga is getting dressed and going out to be the badass vampire goddess she is (which is definitely not at all what inspired the twinyards fighting...)
> 
> Brought to you in part by my need to tell complete strangers my business in the notes sections of my fanfic chapters. 
> 
> And of course, by readers like you. 
> 
> (Basically I took a trip to visit family in Mexico and had a lot of downtime. And now I’m on the flight at 2am and feel the need to share my life with as many words as possible.)

Radio silent. 

The fucking idiot had gone radio silent. 

Neil was a bastard if he’d ever met one, but Andrew couldn’t quantify his stupidity in moments like this. 

Not for the first time in his life, Andrew hated the way his body betrayed him. Something akin to uneasiness forced its way down his hands so they grew more steady on his gun. If it was possible to focus his eyes even harder on his scope, he’d have done it. As it stood, a stronger grip and forcing himself to see through walls only made him a shittier sniper. And he knew that. He _knew_ that. 

Andrew let out a sharp breath and started unclipping his sniper rifle from it stand. He was quick, all nimble fingers and effective movements. 

“This operation is going to shit,” Aaron declared over the radio. “There’s too many.” 

Andrew couldn’t find the energy to vocalize a response, but that didn’t stop his thoughts from reacting. _Too many what? Brotherhood fucks? Casualties? Things gone wrong? Care to be a little specific in the exact ways we are fucked?_

In the end, Andrew stayed true to his reputation of few words and many weapons. 

“Coming to you.” 

“We need Neil out of there,” Kevin decided. “Walker?” 

“A little preoccupied.” She was out of breath, and from the sound of the hitch in her voice, wounded. 

Andrew moved away from the edge of the wall. He took one long look down the edge of the building, waiting for a pang of panic to run through his body. It sent a barely noticeable wave through him, and his heartbeat continued at a ridiculous pace. 

“Leave the idiot,” Andrew said. He leaned closer over the edge of the building, felt the swoop of his stomach dip. 

Fuck his body.

Andrew worked quickly to station a grappling wire to the strongest column the building had to offer before hooking the wire into the apparatus they used to connect to other buildings. The wire kept getting jammed in the mechanism, steel ripping apart his fingertips as he tried to force it to connect. 

“How many?” Kevin asked, ignoring the words he knew Andrew didn’t mean, forever practical. 

It was a good question. Objectively, Andrew could understand that. He was too distracted to particularly care. 

The wire clicked into place. Andrew walked back to the edge of the building, estimating the best point of entry for the wire to bolt into the other building. He fired a shot for the twentieth floor. The hook connected around one of the few remaining steal beams. 

“Only one took off after Neil,” she said a moment later. “I’ve taken out the other four in the stairwell.” 

No one said anything for a moment. 

Andrew thought it a moment before Kevin found the strength to voice it. 

“Riko.” 

“Jean,” Renee replied. 

Renee’s response might have been strange had the force of the hit she took not echoed into her own mic. 

“Fuck,” Boyd commented, voice drowning out in gunfire. 

“Andrew.” Kevin’s voice—frantic. 

It was in this type of moment, with foxes speaking in monosyllables, that Andrew knew it fell on him to pull shit together. This was what he had promised, what he had ensured he was able to do when he’d allowed Kevin to convince him to join. It had been a while since they’d been on the receiving end of such shitty intel, but he wasn’t out of practice. 

“Day stays in the sub levels. Walker and Boyd go after Josten. And my doppelgänger meets me in the stairwell he was supposed to be in twenty minutes ago.” 

“Already heading out,” Boyd supplied uselessly over the mic. 

Andrew focused instead on Aaron’s fierce, “Fuck you.” 

“Bold words for someone in a completely different building.” 

“Quit filling the relay with your arguments and get in position,” Kevin barked, finding strength through the fear that had clouded him a moment ago. 

Andrew did not need further prompting. He gave a tentative tug on the wire before hooking attaching carabiners to his gear and reinforcing them along the wire. He took a short breath, readying himself to zip line across. 

He looked down at the ground, waiting for his body to react. At this height, he’d die for sure. It was a different death from one on the battlefield—one of his own hand rather than circumstance. It was a conversation he’d had with himself in his head a dozen times. His palms were sweaty inside his gloves. 

It was a matter of seconds—it always was—of choosing a point and locking eyes on it as he sailed through the air. There was the quick dip in his stomach, the intense rush of lightheadedness, a whisper of a breeze across his face, then feet connecting with glass, and unclipping a hook to roll onto stable concrete. 

The wire held, like it always did, and Andrew pushed down that part of himself that fantasized about it snapping. 

“Floor 20,” he announced once he was upright. 

“Just off 18,” Aaron replied. “At you in 3 minutes.”

Aaron met Andrew in the stairwell outside of the twentieth floor in two minutes and eighteen seconds. Fucking amateur. 

“You’re early.” 

“You’re kidding,” Aaron said, disbelief painted across his features. 

Andrew hated looking back at his own face, but it didn’t stop him from staring impassively at Aaron. The irritation is caused in Aaron far exceeded his own displeasure. After a moment of infuriating silence, Aaron sighed loudly. He didn’t respond, he likely saw the futility in the act, instead he just turned on his heel to start down the steps towards the floor beneath them. 

Andrew pulled him back up the stairs by his belt, throwing him back towards the door in a moment of rushed reaction. A spark of indignation flared up in Aaron, but there wasn’t time to vocalize it. The jolting of it had thrown Aaron off balance. He barely had time to process the soldiers coming up the stairs, and as soon as he realized, his anger had dissipated. 

“Back.” Andrew pointed to the door.

Aaron didn’t argue. He scrambled for footing before heading onto the 20th floor. 

Andrew unhooked a grenade from his belt and threw it into the hands of the soldier leading the pack before retreating behind his brother. He held the door shut tightly until he heard the grenade go off, then pushed back towards his brother, waiting for the remaining soldiers to come.

“Nicky’s at the rendezvous point,” Aaron said. Maybe to fill the silence or maybe in a vain attempt to be helpful. “He’s going to fucking lose it when he hears what happened.” 

Aaron was stiff, a stark contrast to the lazy bouncing Andrew was doing as he shifted his weight back and forth on the balls of his feet. They stared ahead of them and waited to be attacked. 

“He always fucking loses it,” Andrew replied. “Now shut up and shoot.” 

There was a strange ferocity that Andrew couldn’t deny when he had his brother at his side. 

It was their reputation, he was sure. Mostly his, though Aaron had surely made a name for himself as well. You didn’t survive this long in the kind of scenarios they’d grown up in to not have stories scattered across the Commonwealth. 

For one thing, hardly anyone could tell them apart when they were fighting. People could hardly tell them apart when they weren’t fighting. And either way, people always lingered on the possibility they were facing the wrong twin. With Andrew’s reputation hanging over the both of them, there was much for people to worry about. 

It was stupid really, given Aaron had a penchant for the choreography of a fight—all smooth movements and counterattacks utilizing his entire body. Andrew was more of the smash, dice, and any means necessary variety. 

Aaron did ultimately do exactly as his brother had directed: he shut up and he shot. Three men in the knee cap actually, in a neat little row so Andrew could cut their throats down the line. 

It was everything Aaron loved in a fight but never wanted to admit out loud, least of all to Andrew. All symmetry and ceremony, the result of perfect shots and exacting movements. 

Andrew pushed forward, ruining Aaron’s next shot by wrenching the soldier onto the ground via his helmet strap. He threw him so roughly against the ground the helmet popped off, and didn’t stop until the body stilled below him. 

“That’s wildly ineffective.” 

“He’s dead isn’t he?” 

“Yes—”

“So then it was effective.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

Andrew didn’t reply, just gave his brother that blank look he knew he hated. 

Aaron sighed and shook his head. 

“At this rate we’ll never make it down to meet up with anyone.” 

“Interesting how that’s a priority for yours now.” 

Aaron looked about ready to snap back at him before he pulled forced indifference over his features. Aaron knew better than most people how Andrew was a when he was on his drugs. He spoke more to him now than he had in those first few months Andrew had shown up in his life, but he didn't often have the patience to bother attempting to communication. 

Andrew didn’t have to wonder what it was that got them to this point, half jabs without either of them caring enough to really get into it with each other. And Andrew wasn’t stupid enough to think it would change. Aaron would continue ignoring him as long and as much as he could until the day one of them died. And knowing the Commonwealth, that day wasn’t far either. 

“Elevator,” Aaron decided. 

Andrew spread his arms, motioning for Aaron to lead the way for them. 

It was undoubtably faster, even as Aaron struggled to wrench the elevator doors open. They moved quickly, zipping past floors at triple the speed with which they’d gone down the stairs. Andrew’s hands were clammy. Every so often he would stare down at the unseeable ground below, wondering what it would take for his rope to snap. 

At Floor 14 Andrew’s forearm twitched. 

“We can just grab him, you know,” Aaron said. 

“Why would I do that?” Andrew ignored the fact that Aaron could sense his hesitation. 

Aaron gave him an impassive stare. “Convenience,” he tried. 

Andrew didn’t reply. 

“What are we doing anyway?” 

“Heading down to Day. He needs cover.”

“Does he? More than Josten?” 

“My loyalty isn’t to Josten.” 

“You and your fucking promises.” 

Andrew fought the urge to cut his brother’s wire down and watch him struggle to hold onto his life regardless of the promise he’d made him. 

Instead he said, as flat as he could muster, “Not all people are willing to betray their word as easily as you.” 

“Updates,” Kevin demanded, saving Aaron from needing to respond. “I’m striking through the front.” 

“Elevator with Andrew,” Aaron supplied. “Floor 10.” 

“Moreau.” Renee let out. 

“Coming up on 12 now,” Boyd supplied. 

A crash in the elevator shaft had both boys looking up in time to see two ropes slide down the suddenly open doors from the floor above them. 

“They’ll shoot,” Aaron said quickly, throwing his body weight away from the wall and to the other side of the shaft where he tried to pry the elevator door open. 

They did in fact shoot. Andrew took a bullet to the shoulder to prove it, and another to his calf. 

Two soldiers slid down their respective ropes, presumably for better aim. 

“Fuckers,” Aaron spat as he cut at the rope of the nearest soldier. On his way down, Andrew used his knife to cut along the side of his body, clinging hard to his own rope so as to not get sucked down with him. Aaron jerked the knife back into another soldiers rib before pushing him towards Andrew, who brought the other soldiers rope tight around his neck and pulled until he heard a snap. 

Aaron wrenched the door open and pulled his brother off his rope as fast as he could possibly go now that there wasn’t anyone attacking them. 

“Stimpak,” Andrew demanded. 

“Not with the bullets in your body, idiot.” 

Aaron sighed as if the whole ordeal was a wild inconvenience. 

“Pull them out after.” 

“Not how that works.” 

He looked behind him, at the closed doors, before pulling off his backpack and digging around. He set a stimpak, a knife, and surgical pliers on top of his pack.

“Andrew’s down. I’m doing a quick extraction,” he said into the relay. 

“Copy,” Kevin said. 

He handed Andrew the strap of his backpack to bite down on. 

“Fast.” Aaron said it almost like a promise. 

It went something like this: 

Aaron sliding a knife under the skin of Andrew’s calf and digging around for nineteen seconds before extracting only one small part of the bullet. He went back in for the other piece and that was an additional thirty-three seconds. Aaron’s cold hand pressed tight against his leg while he slid the knife under the collar of Andrew’s shirt 

His shoulder was faster. A flesh wound, Aaron had informed him. Fourteen seconds. 

It was faster than it had taken Aaron to climb two floors, so that had to count for something.

Andrew watched it happen, forced himself to. This wouldn’t be the last time he was injured and it was certainly information that was helpful to have. One of the few perks of his memory, he supposed. 

Andrew wouldn’t bother to let him stitch up the wounds, taking the stimpak from Aaron’s hand and plunging it into his skin before he could react. 

Andrew hopped up after a moment, bouncing around until the little twinges of pain stopped. 

They made it down the rest of the stairs undisturbed. Whatever orders Riko had given it hadn’t necessitated that they be killed. Even Andrew couldn’t deny that with the numbers he’d seen storm the building, they’d be dead already if Riko had really wanted that. 

Aaron and Andrew hopped out the windows of the first floor and flanked around each side of the building, ready to meet by the entrance and finish off the last wave of soldiers storming the building. Their efforts were unnecessary. 

The soldiers weren’t there to kill. Renee had told the foxes that three blocks west the Brotherhood had holed up in a former police station, and they seemed to be heading that way, either not caring about their orders—or more likely—retreating by command. 

“Found it,” Kevin announced over the microphone. 

“Get out,” Andrew said. He didn’t like the uneasiness that was settling over his skin. The retreat was strange, and Aaron seemed to think so as well from the expression on his face. 

“We’ll meet you,” Renee said in a rush. She was running. The feedback in her mic picked up her winded breaths as she ran. 

“Found Neil. Riko’s letting us go, said our search here is over. Best if we retreat while we can,” Matt announced. 

_Riko’s letting us go._

If Andrew needed another reason to hate this mission that would be it. Something was not adding up about Riko’s orders and allowances. Merciful was not a word used when describing Riko, and there wasn’t any reason for Riko to spoil his reputation now unless it was somehow in his favor. 

“How is he?” It wasn’t obvious who he was referring to. Andrew knew he meant both Neil and Riko, but everyone else interpreted it one way. 

“Alive,” Neil said. His voice was gravely—pissed and smug. But he seemed otherwise unharmed. 

Matt provided more specifics, but Andrew tuned him out. He just barely registered the words “slice you open” before he was pushing his little group forward. He grabbed Aaron by the elbow and threw him further down the path towards Kevin. Aaron was peeved, but conceded to Andrew’s directions, holding tight to his gun, but visibly less anxious. 

“Reconvene at Diamond City. Trusting you and Neil to meet up with Renee and meet us there,” Kevin directed. 

“Got it,” Matt confirmed before cutting off. 

Kevin turned to Andrew, nodding at his direction for them to move out.

He waited a while, a few blocks, before speaking. Aaron was a bit behind them, bringing up the rear. 

“You gave away your position.” Kevin was calm, curious. 

Andrew had already thought through his reasoning for blowing his own cover. There wasn't any real reason, he could admit that to himself. Not for the first time, Andrew suspected the drugs. Not only the heightened stimulation they required, but also for the reactions his body had around Josten when he was high. It was a strange side effect, the drugs drawing him closer and closer to Josten since he piqued Andrew’s interest. 

Sometimes Kevin was more perceptive than he seemed. 

“That’s the purpose of a sniper: to take out the enemy.” Andrew was carefully devoid of emotion. “I can handle whoever comes after me.” 

“Neil can handle anyone who comes after him,” Kevin countered. 

Andrew was dangled in a precarious situation: pretend Josten couldn’t defend himself to make a point, or play his usual role of protector with someone he was under no obligation to protect. 

“Apparently not _anyone_.” And because he wasn’t in the business of implying anything to anyone about Neil’s past, he quickly shut his mouth. 

They continued walking for several moments in silence. Aaron was still a little behind them, pretending not to listen so he didn’t have to force himself into not caring. 

“I see it,” Kevin said suddenly. 

For a moment Andrew was surprised Kevin had bothered to say the words out loud. His bouts of confidence really were as terribly annoying as they were deeply satisfying. 

“And what, _exactly_ , do you see, Kevin?” 

Kevin opened his mouth, a small breath filling his lungs. Then his tongue stuttered, and he was stuck. And Andrew was able to avoid the particulars of reality he had been so good at avoiding. 

Kevin’s eyebrows crinkled, annoyed at his own hesitation. He knew he lost whatever bizarre game for control they were playing. It was usually the case, so he didn’t seem as peeved as he could have been. 

“You keep telling me you needed a reason. That what I was offering you wasn’t enough. Use this.” 

Kevin knew how to speak to him, and sometimes Andrew even let him. It was entertaining enough now to watch him try to be vague. 

“It’s not yours to offer,” he countered. 

“It could be yours to take if you bothered to try.” 

Kevin’s impatience betrayed him once again. Those were the wrong words, and Andrew watched it on his face the moment he realized Andrew had slid impassivity across his features. 

“Ding ding ding. That marks the end of this conversation, Day.”

“Andrew—“ 

“Let’s go. I know you’re dying to grill Josten on his confrontation with Riko.” At the torn look on Kevin’s face he tutted and shook his head. “Predictable as always, Day.”

"Don't let it distract him," he said. 

It was so typical of Kevin that Andrew's drugs swooped right in to claim his response. His laughter was so loud it might have startled anyone else. As it was Kevin was staring at him intently, unfazed and uncaring that Andrew's laughter was usually followed by someone else's blood. 

"That would imply he isn't completely oblivious." 

At this Kevin seemed to concede. "He needs things spelled out for him." 

"Keep the rest of your little squad in check then. I won't be the one to do it for him." 

Kevin dropped it there. It was the most he was willing to get involved, that was clear. He'd said what he'd had to and anything else now was just posturing which he had no need for. Sometimes they were similar in that way. It was that trait, afterall, that had caused Andrew to allow himself to be persuaded by Kevin's offer in the first place. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhhhh kind of getting hard to write Andrew in these situations. I know how I should get him to react, or not react, but also need to like drive plot and story development...Why is he so crazy difficult??! Hopefully it feels like it fits this strange little world! 
> 
>  
> 
> Up next: 
> 
> BIG TALKS COMING. Andrew and Neil and answers and promises and next steps!   
> They deserve a little break--and by break I mean they head to the Combat Zone to beat the shit out of people.   
> Neil may or may not be forced into the public eye by Allison? 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and commenting and kudos!!!


	23. Curtain Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Neil goes on talk radio. (AKA the Kathy Chapter)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it’s back! Told you all I wouldn’t abandon this guy. 
> 
> Big talks! And by big talks I mean LONGGGGG talks. So much dialogue in this chapter. I hope it doesn’t bore you all. This chapter is kind of a long one— my gift to you for being so patient with me. In addition to writing this fic, I’ve been desperately trying to finish my fic for the Big Bang which will be up by the end of the month. It started out as a 10K story that somehow grew into a 30+ chaptered beast. It’s kind of been infiltrating my life since I decided to take it on in April. 
> 
> And on top of that, I’ve been working on a multi-chapter Kill Bill Au that is to be released by the end of the month as well so keep an eye out for that if blood and violence is your jam. 
> 
> My other fics are on hiatus until I get more of the fallout story completed. I mentioned last time that it will probably be around 40 chapters or so (trying to fit the three books into this crazy weird world is not an easy task). 
> 
> I start work again literally tomorrow, so updated can be expected at least once a month. With the Big Bang in mind, a new chapter for this guy probably won’t be out before September so just a heads up. 
> 
> As ALWAYS, thank you so much for reading. Comments and kudos are deeply appreciated.

The blood loss rushed to his head in dizzying spurts, and Neil allowed himself to be irritated at his body only for the time it took to get down the full fight of stairs they had to take to Diamond City field. In all honesty, he’d suffered worse. Recently, in fact. But his body sometimes betrayed him, and adrenaline could only shock his system so many times before it inevitably was not enough. 

The walk back had been awful—Neil’s anxiety had him confused what way to look. Up, around, behind, in front. He held onto his gun like it could do something to protect him even with his focus scattered as it was. 

Riko had _let_ him walk away. Allowed him to continue to living. It was a fact that both terrified and pissed him off. He’d never been afraid as the result of someone other than his father. There had been hitmen before, but never with their own agenda and their own private arsenal. There were too many equations where Riko could bring about his death. Neil, the optimist he was, was stuck in a loop of hoping that it was Riko himself who would end it. Anything other than his father. 

On several occasions, Matt had to politely tell Neil to calm the fuck down. 

It had been a while since Neil had felt the urge to go back to a place to feel comfortable, but he felt like he could almost do it with the Foxes. There were just a few more steps between him and enough safety to deal with his wounds. This is what he focused on as they made their way back to Diamond City—potential safety kept him going. 

Renee, when she finally caught up with them, took to making small conversation with Matt, politely and subtly giving Neil the space he needed to disengage from socializing. If he was being honest, she looked like completely shit, but she carried herself as though she’d won. Neil wasn’t sure why that surprised him—that she could beat Jean in all of his PowerArmor glory—but it did. She was limping, only slightly, and there were fierce bruises on her face and neck. 

When they pushed through the main market of the city, someone yelled out in surprise as they recognized Neil. 

“Neil Josten,” a young girl exclaimed. Her face lit-up immediately, and at her exclamation several other people in the marketplace stilled to examine the three of them. “Where’s Dogmeat?”

“Dogmeat?” Neil echoed, shocked to stillness. As someone who had spent his life running, watching someone recognize him was his worst nightmare come to life. 

Suddenly, people began talking all at once, and all directed towards him, Renee, and Matt. Words like _Deathclaw_ , and _Minutemen_ , and _synths_ , filled the air, as people grabbed the attention of fellow passerby and threw them into the spectacle as well. 

Hands reached out, trying to focus Neil’s attention this way or that, as the townspeople attempted to grab hold of him. Contact with his skin had him spinning, skin crawling, bile rising in his throat. This was unprecedented, so many people’s attention focused on him. He couldn’t say it was a welcome feeling. He looked around the marketplace desperately, trying to follow the path Matt was clearing for him, trying to find something to lock his focus onto. He’d been too distracted upon entering Diamond City to consider potential escape routes from the market.

Matt parted the growing crowd, but it was Renee who blocked people from Neil’s path. Wherever a hand jutted out, she was there to redirect it. As people pushed in towards Neil’s left, she created space for him to step right. It was a blessing that Neil didn’t have time to focus on. 

“This is concerning,” she voiced quietly to Matt. “You shouldn’t be recognizable.” 

Matt’s face was grim, the usual easy smile plastered there completely wiped away. 

“This smells like Allison,” Matt said under his breath as more people attempted to crowd them. “Let’s get to Wymack’s.” 

Neil was slipping up, he decided as they navigated tight corners and bobbed down alleyways. And with all of the things after him, it would be his own fucking stupidity that got him killed.

Neil’s focus broke as he spiraled into chastising himself for being so careless. 

He waited for his mother’s voice, and was surprised when it didn’t come. If he focused hard, he could guess what she would have said. But that had never been necessary before. Her harsh words of warning had always directed him, floating up into his mind instantly. 

As they turned down a few of the narrow alleyways, the crowd thinned. Excitable as they were, they were also fairly fickle. They lost interest quickly, more interested in recounting stories as it became clear neither Neil nor Matt and Renee were there to chat. 

“Look,” Matt said over his shoulder as they continued down the passage. 

He must have gotten a hold of a newspaper at some point in the chaos. He pushed it into Neil’s hands. 

There was a sketch of Neil, drawn impressively accurately, with the headline: VAULT DWELLER TO UNITE THE COMMONWEALTH—FOXES, MINUTEMEN, RAILROAD VIE FOR HIS ATTENTION

Neil looked at the top of the paper. The Publick Occurrence. Allison’s newspaper. His fingers started to shake, words blurring together. This kind of publicity was suicide. Worse than suicide. It was a beacon to everyone that was after him. It was a trail to be followed. 

Upon entering The Fox Detective Agency, Matt brought the newspaper fiercely down onto Wymack’s desk. 

“The fuck is this?” he demanded of Wymack. 

Wymack glanced only briefly at the newspaper before bringing his gaze up to the two men in front of him. Renee stood off to the side, silently observing. 

“I suppose this is Reynolds way of helping the cause.” 

“She exposed Matt’s railroad status,” Renee said. She didn’t sound particularly angry, but Neil could feel the hesitation in her voice. 

“You honestly think Allison was pure in her motives here?” Matt demanded of Wymack, sounding exasperated beyond belief. “We don’t know what we are dealing with here now that Institute is somehow involved. You think she was doing this for any reason other than to profit? You can’t be so naive.” 

“And neither can you,” Wymack volleyed back. “ _You_ honestly think Allison runs her schemes by me?” He looked from Matt to Neil before settling back on Matt’s face. “You know better than to assume she needs anybody’s approval to do whatever the hell she decides.” 

“I’m sure it wasn’t her intention to put you in any kind of danger,” Renee said, taking a step forward. 

“She had no right to publish anything about Neil without his consent.” 

“Go get her, please,” Wymack asked of Renee. 

She left with a nod, pulling the door carefully closed behind her. 

“Meanwhile, and more importantly, what the fuck happened with the extraction?” 

“Renee got the information we needed. But we ran into Riko. Well,” Matt said as he glanced at Neil. “Josten did anyway. He told him off. Turns out he knows no fear after all. If it weren’t so shocking I’d actually be happy that I won the bet.” 

Matt began to peel off some of his armor. He gestured for Neil to do the same.

“Why am I not surprised?” Wymack said with a sigh. “I take it from the slices Riko didn’t take it well.” 

“We had a difference of opinion,” Neil said. 

“Pissing off the leader of the Brotherhood…When I said we would have your back on this mission, I didn’t mean you pick a fight with the psychotic with an army at his disposal. Should I have spelled that out for you beforehand?” 

“Probably.” 

The door to Wymack’s place burst open, saving Neil from listening to Wymack’s retort. Andrew waltzed over the threshold, Kevin and Aaron following close behind. He went straight for Neil, grabbing his jaw and cranking his head roughly to the side. He ran a thumb harshly across the bruise forming along Neil’s cheek where Riko had hit him. Andrew dropped his hand and looked at Wymack who was staring at them curiously, a completely different expression on his face than the annoyance that was there a moment ago. 

“Where’s my cousin?” Aaron asked. 

“Took off for Allison’s as soon as he checked in. Renee just went to grab them,” Wymack said, still looking between Andrew and Neil like he was missing something. 

“Good. This one is about to have an aneurysm,” Andrew said throwing a hand towards Kevin, who had already moved his way into Neil’s space. 

“We need to talk,” Kevin said, low and desperate. His eyes jumped around the room. 

“That’s a pretty big understatement,” Neil admitted. 

“You can talk when everyone is here,” Wymack decided. “I don’t need to hear stupidity recounted twice.” 

Andrew laughed. “You’re looking at the wrong pair then, detective.” 

Aaron grabbed the paper off of Wymack’s desk and read it quickly, scanning the article before looking up at Neil with an arched eyebrow. 

“Remind me again why we want to keep him around?” He held the paper up as evidence. 

“Neil,” Andrew prompted. “Care to make a case for yourself?” 

He was high, Neil could see it along the edges of his smile, in the brightness of his eyes. And he hated that for some reason he had expected Andrew not to be. 

“Wymack said to wait for everyone,” Neil said, eyes straining not to look at Andrew. 

“Ha,” Andrew let out. “Now he hides.” 

It was only a minute or two until Renee came in with Nicky and Allison. 

“Renee said the mission was complete chaos,” Nicky exclaimed as he made his way across the room towards his cousins. 

“I didn’t say that,” Renee put in gently. 

“May as well have!” He grabbed hold of Aaron’s shoulders, who struggled to shove him off. “An elevator shaft?”

“Nicky, save your self-inflicted familial guilt for later,” Aaron snapped, finally breaking free. 

“Bigger fish to fry as it were,” Wymack said, looking to Allison with a raised eyebrow. 

“Yeah, like Josten,” Andrew replied with a grin. 

“Shut it, Minyard. Now.” Wymack held the newspaper on his desk up for everyone to see. He let out a long exasperated breath. “What the hell, Allison?” 

“What?” she asked, examine a fingernail. “Everyone practically loves the guy now.” 

“Not the point,” Renee said, bumping her shoulder. 

“If you are waiting for me to apologize, don’t hold your breath.” 

“Big surprise there,” Aaron said. 

At his voice, she looked up with narrowed eyes. 

“What about Neil?” Allison demanded. 

“We’ll get to that,” Wymack dismissed. 

“Well, let’s get there then,” she insisted. “His explanation of the mission is important here.”

“Quit distracting,” Matt said, but the heat behind his voice was gone. There was a curiosity in the look he gave Neil. 

“No,” Andrew said, wide smile. “Let’s hear Josten’s explanation of the mission.” 

_Fucking instigator_ , Neil thought bitterly. But eyes were already turning towards him, curious and waiting. Not for the first time, Neil considered all the ways Andrew was a wretched fucking inconvenience. He hoped his eyes conveyed it as he stared right at him. 

“When we got to the building, I headed for the top floors, like I was supposed to. The orders were to wait until Aaron joined for backup, but he didn’t follow through.” 

“Fuck you,” Aaron said with heat. 

“Fuck you. You weren’t there,” Neil replied. “When he didn’t get there in time, I got a little…impatient.” 

“He slammed down the door with his body,” Kevin said. 

“Subtle,” Wymack said. 

“Well, I wasn’t going to stand there exposed. It didn’t matter, no one was on the floor and the plans weren’t there either. As I was leaving, Renee cut in with word that the Brotherhood was infiltrating the building. I figured they would start with the ground floors, but a few of them were scaling the building. Renee found me, and on Kevin’s orders we cleared the upper floors before heading down to the sub-levels for support.” 

“We scoured some of the other floors for the plans. I knew we were working on incomplete information,” Renee cut in. 

“On the way down, we ran into Jean Moreau.” 

At his name, nervous glances were thrown around the room. Wymack kept his eyes fixed on Neil. 

“Renee and I were separated. They blocked her off with three other Power armored soldiers, and Jean took me down to see Riko. We talked. And he let me go.” 

“You _talked_?” Allison asked in disbelief. 

“Is that what they call it these days?” Wymack asked. “What about your injuries.” 

“We had a difference of opinion.” 

“So you’ve told me. Care to tell us what the hell that means?” 

“No,” Neil said honestly. 

Andrew burst out laughing. He raised a hand up to his mouth, pretending to shield his lips from the others and stage whispered, “Hey, Neil. Honesty looks awful on you.” 

“It wasn’t important,” Neil insisted. “Riko was just posturing.” 

“Humor us anyway,” Wymack volleyed. 

Neil glanced around the room. Telling them how much Riko knew about his past wasn’t an option. 

“He wants Kevin back,” Neil said simply, deciding on fewer words to sell his story. “I told him not to bother, and he didn’t like that. That’s all there is to it.” 

“That’s all there is to it?” Kevin demanded. “You mouth off to Riko and you think there won’t be repercussions. You think he just let you go and that’s the end of it?” 

“Stupid,” Wymack confirmed. “I can’t say it looks good on you, kid.” 

“Wait, back up,” Matt said. “Why would Riko want Kevin back? He was the one that booted him.” 

“Because he wasn’t supposed to succeed on his own,” Neil said, looking at Kevin. “That’s it, isn’t it? You were supposed to sink into silence, not continue fighting a crusade with an enemy of the Brotherhood.” 

“That’s not what you said to him.” Kevin said it like a statement, but the fear that gripped the question was clear. “Tell me that’s not what you said to him.” 

“I told him that for such a supposedly powerful leader of the Brotherhood, he sure seemed insecure.” 

Kevin made a choking sound as the other Foxes let out a random collection of surprised noises. Wymack had his head in his hands. 

“Neil, you’ll have to show Kevin where you found your spine,” Andrew said. 

Neil ignored him, looking only at Kevin. “He’s pissed that you’re still helping people but he isn’t getting credit for it.” 

“Don’t presume to understand Riko’s motives.” It was a warning, one Neil didn’t feel like taking. 

“Why do you care that Riko wants you to go back? Why does it even matter that the Brotherhood is after you anyway?” Neil demanded. Kevin stared directly at the floor. 

“You don’t understand what you’re talking about.” Kevin’s voice was low. Neil was aware how thin the ice he was treading on was, but he wouldn’t look away from Kevin. 

“They broke his arms,” Allison said impatiently, as though she was over this entire conversation. “Shattered both of them and then stimpaked them without resetting anything. Then they dumped him on the the outskirts of the Glowing Sea. It took us months to repair the damage.” 

“Allison,” Renee said with a small shake of her head. 

“What? We all know the story. The vault dweller is the only one who doesn’t.” 

“It’s not your story to tell,” Renee reminded her. 

Neil expected Kevin to be livid, but he just looked resigned. The silence in the room was indicative of just how inexplicable the entire situation was. The absurdity of it floated in the air around them, and Neil had a million question he just couldn’t find the words to voice. 

“Well, that settles it then,” Wymack said swiftly, obviously eager to end the tension in the room. “Neil’s explanation of the mission. We have the plans, you all can move onto the next phase of this Institute business.” 

“No,” Matt said. “We still don’t have an explanation from Allison.” 

“And explanation for _what,_ Matt _?”_ Allison sighed. 

“An explanation for the article, Allison,” Matt said with a sigh. “A reason why you sold Neil’s private life for a story, or why you outted me as a Railroad Agent. Or any of the other dozen private things you let out.” 

“You want an explanation? I’m a journalist. It’s what I _do_. And it’s what the people deserve. And fuck you for thinking I would do anything otherwise.” 

“Your self-righteousness is showing,” Nicky muttered. 

“As is your stupidity. Everything he just told me, I did Josten a favor.” 

The faces in the room said they did not agree. All except for Andrew, who was staring right at Neil with an intent expression. If Neil was supposed to be able to parse anything from the look, it was a long-shot that he would be able to. It wouldn’t be the first time since they’d met that Neil looked at Andrew feeling utterly lost. 

“Look, the Brotherhood is pissed, right? Well, how easy is it for them to dispose of people that piss them off?” 

“Allison,” Renee warned delicately. 

“No. Seriously. But with this article, good luck having people get to Neil. You saw what the crowd did when they saw him. You’re practically a celebrity, kid. And especially after that broadcast this afternoon, people are seriously questioning the Brotherhood. I can spin that in a follow-up article. You’ve got the media at your fingertips, Josten.” 

“Wait. What do you mean a broadcast?” Neil asked. 

Allison rolled her eyes. “Every so often the Brotherhood sends messages out over the television and radio channels. At least once a week they do this. Usually recruitment or propaganda of some kind. They broadcasted one out just before you guys got back.” 

“Where?” Kevin demanded. It was hardly a complete sentence, but Allison seemed to understand what he meant. 

She walked across the room, dragging a pre-war radio from underneath on top of a file cabinet before setting it down on Wymack’s desk, closer to where they were all crowded. 

“It’ll play on loop for 12 hours,” she said as she messed with the dials. 

There was radio chatter, and then the sound of dark music with heavy drums filling the small speakers of the radio. It was silent enough in the room that it seemed to echo. The music cut a few minutes in, just as everyone was starting to get particularly impatient, and Riko’s voice filled the room. 

_“Members of the Commonwealth, we come to you today fresh off a victory for the Commonwealth. But it is this very victory that fills the brothers and sisters of the Brotherhood with pain. You already know that we only ever ask for two things for anyone under our command: honesty and respect. This is a part of the strict code of ethics that drives any Brotherhood soldier. It is true, that we do not control those who choose not to affiliate with us. Yet, that is precisely what this broadcast today is about._

_It was an unfortunate circumstance of fate that today a band of self-proclaimed revolutionists, commonly known as the Foxes, attempted to infiltrate a Brotherhood safety house. The raid was handled swiftly and peacefully, as always. However, what made this particular raid so disappointing was the person spear-heading it. Kevin Day, it would seem, has decided to work against the very Brotherhood which he called family only a few short months ago. This was heartbreaking to see, of course._

_Many people look at Kevin now, seeing how far he’s supposedly come after the Brotherhood. They see the fact that he is out attempting to, as he calls it, help the people of the Commonwealth, and call it amazing. I, however, am not so sure it is. I say this, not as the leader of the Brotherhood, but as his true brother, as his best friend. I’m worried his wishful thinking and obsession will cause him to injure himself or worse. That is not to mention the new company he keeps and the ways they may be taking advantage of him.”_

His tone over the transmission was concerned, but watching Kevin, Neil could practically feel Riko’s knife working its way repeatedly into Kevin’s chest. It filled Neil with rage. 

_“This brings us to the second portion of this transmission. The Foxes, have long been an inadequate group to meet the needs of the Commonwealth. They lack to unity of the Minutemen, the resources and training of the Brotherhood, and the stealth of the Railroad. When Andrew Minyard and his family joined their ranks, it was clear they were more concerned with their own so called mission rather than providing genuine help to those people who need it most. We were shocked when Kevin joined them. But all of that pales in comparison to their newest member. Previously, his amateur status was too pathetic to bother wasting resources on. Now, it seems, he is someone we can no longer ignore._

_Neil Josten is not to be trusted. He is reckless in his pursuit of his own dogmatic ideals. He is after all, an amateur at best, without the training or the resources to actually help people in need. As the Brotherhood attempts to deal with the threat he poses on the good people of the Commonwealth, we urge you to continue to place your trust in our capable hands._

_There is only one final thing to say on the whole matter. Kevin cannot and will not fight for us again. He knows this. Our affection for him does not excuse his betrayal, and he would never willingly drag down the group he called his family since brith. That doesn’t mean the Brotherhood of Steel is not his home. This message is specifically for him: Kevin, I urge you to come back to us and find your place within our tactical team. Your days as a soldier are numbered and we all want to see you here, helping us garner information that can protect the good people of the Commonwealth, instead of wasting your talent with a group that is unsure in its aims. Please, come home._

_That is all that we have for you this afternoon. As you all know, in the end, we aim to save humankind from its worst enemy: itself. As always, if you are interested in enlisting, please head to the central enrollment facility in the Cambridge area. Ad Victoriam, Paladins.”_

The transmission cut off, replaced once again with the music that introduced the message. 

“Ad victoriam,” Neil questioned. 

“To victory,” Kevin translated. “In their eyes, defeat is unacceptable because they’re fighting for the future of mankind.” 

Allison snorted. “So they say.” 

“So they’ll be after Neil now?” Matt asked. 

Allison laughed. “They’re already after him, Matt. Don’t be naive.” 

“So, we send our own broadcast. Get ahead of it.” Kevin said. 

He looked determined and it was hard for Neil not to hide the shock that colored his face and the dread that perched itself inside his stomach—squinting as he tried to keep his cool. 

“It doesn’t seem like we should provoke them,” Renee said carefully. 

“We already have.” Kevin said. “Neil’s behavior is provocation enough.” 

Andrew started laughing, but didn’t have anything additional to contribute. 

“I can’t be on a live broadcast,” Neil said after it was silent for a moment too long. It was clear no one was protesting the idea, not Wymack and not even Andrew, and Neil for the life of him could not understand why. 

“You already will be. Riko will talk about you whether you want to be on the radio or not,” Kevin said.“Brotherhood loyalists will be after you. They may as well have set a bounty on your head.” 

“No.” 

“You’ll get the Commonwealth to trust you, that will be enough. This kind of thing doesn’t necessitate you telling Riko off. 

“You’ve already taken to that,” Wymack seemed keen to remind him. 

“You’ll say a few vague words about your backstory with the Minutemen. Keep the positive press of Allison’s article up and create enough breathing room from the Brotherhood so that you have _options_ without them breathing down your back.” 

He said options very carefully, and Neil knew Kevin was advising him to do this and run. It was advice his mother probably would have given. Though, they would have run away from Kevin and this whole group way before it had gotten to this point. Even still, even though it was familiar and Neil knew it was what he should do, he could’t bring himself to. This went against every self-preservation tactic in his body. 

“I won’t do it.” 

Kevin moved in close, closing Neil off from the others and whispered in his ear. “Then I wash my hands of you and you can struggle through your mediocre scuffle with Riko and the Institute on your own.” 

“That isn’t fair,” Neil said lowly. 

“Seriously, Day,” Matt interjected even though he couldn’t make out what Kevin was saying. Kevin spoke over him, drowning out his voice as he kept his gaze fixed on Neil. 

“And that isn’t my concern. What’ll it be?” 

Andrew was watching gleefully, waiting for Neil’s response. 

Neil didn’t say anything, gaping for a moment before he closed his mouth with a hard snap and looked away. 

“It’s settled then,” Kevin said to Allison. “Have Diamond City Radio prep the broadcast.” 

Andrew’s smile was broad as he settled up close next to Neil. He leaned in close, their shoulders brushing, before whispering in his ear. 

“You’re so stupid.” 

Andrew was right, and there was no point in denying it. 

“You really don’t have to do this, you know,” Matt said. “The Railroad will still be happy to offer it’s resources. And it’s not as though they don't want to go to the Institute. You don’t have to prove anything—”

“Oh. You have no idea how wrong you are,” Andrew said gleefully as he walked away. “There is so much Neil has to prove.” 

“It’s fine,” Neil said as he watched Andrew go. He turned back to a less than convinced Matt. “I’d really rather just get it over with so we can get back to the Institute. If this is a way to do that, I’m willing to concede.” 

Matt shook his head, running a hand over his head. “I mean, it’s your call. Just know that you don’t have to do everything they tell you. Okay? We still care about you, despite how Andrew’s lot acts.” 

“Thanks,” Neil said, unsure of how to end the uncomfortable exchange. The single word seemed to do the trick. Matt smiled and patted him on the shoulder as he stood. 

“Any time.”

* * *

 

The Diamond City Radio Station was a small shed on the outfield of Fenway Park. All of the radio equipment was crammed against the free wall space, so that it surrounded Kevin and Neil by three sides. With the host of the radio, Travis, sitting in their with them, the three men could just barely fit. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a very special treat for all of you listeners. Right here, in the heart of Diamond City we have the one and the only, Kevin Day, in his first public appearance since leaving the Brotherhood. And along with him, someone that has captured the attention of both Kevin Day and the Commonwealth, Neil Josten.” 

“Thank you for having us,” Kevin said, leaning forward into the mic with practiced motions. It was strange to see Kevin’s smile, much less hear it in his voice. Neil stared. “It’s good to be speaking to the people of the Commonwealth again.” 

“And there really is so much to talk about, isn’t there?” Travis said. “We were all devastated when you let the Brotherhood. There was a hopelessness that surrounded the Commonwealth for some time there.” 

“I can imagine it was difficult for the public to continue on without clear answers, and I know how critical the Brotherhood’s protection is for so much of the city.” Kevin said, a careful evasion of the thinly veiled question Travis was throwing his way. “But it’s good to be back now.” 

“And back you seem to be. I have to say, it did take Diamond City by surprise to see you come to the Foxes Detective Agency after leaving the Brotherhood. Why Wymack of all people?” 

“Wymack knew my mother, who as I’m sure you already know, helped to found a version of the Brotherhood in the Commonwealth before they partnered with the Brotherhood of the Capital Wasteland. We had kept in touch through my time there, and it was a logical choice after leaving since I knew I could depend on him.” 

“Definitely some interesting players in the Foxhole Detective Agency. Key players of course being the Minyard twins and Minutemen leader Dan Wilds. There are rumors too of its connection with the Railroad.” 

Kevin was poised, balanced. Perfect, really. As though he was made for evading questions with a breezy smile. 

“The Foxes are on their way up. And more importantly, their goal is and always has been the same as mine. Wymack is one of the few people others can depend on in impossible situations. And no Fox believes in an impossible situation. They are dedicated, and that’s more important than rumors or perception. Wouldn’t you agree?” 

“Absolutely,” Travis said smoothly. “That leads up quite perfectly into speaking about your newest member. Now, the Foxes have been known in the Commonwealth to recruit those individuals with particularly difficult backstories. Gives an air of mystery to the entire operation, but for some, also inspires a level of trust. Until recently, no one knew what to make of your newest member, Neil Josten. Luckily, he is here today.” 

Kevin elbowed Neil sharply in the ribs. 

“Hi, Travis,” Neil said bitterly. He could murder Kevin, really, for putting him in this situation. 

“The infamous vault dweller!” Travis greeted. “We have quite a bit to talk about. But let’s start with your former home: Vault 111. It seems that you’ve just popped up in the Commonwealth a little while ago. Why did you choose now to leave your underground protections?” 

“Everyone had left a while ago,” Neil answered, taking his time to make the conversation feel more realistic. He resisted every urge to blurt his story and bolt out of the radio shed. “I was really the only one left and I was running out of food. No one who had left before ever bothered to come back, so I figured I didn’t have much to lose. I could die of starvation, or I could try to do something about my situation.” 

“One of the first stories that circulated about you was your defeat of a Deathclaw in Concord alongside the Minutemen. Not an easy task to take down one of those.” 

“No,” Neil admitted. “But the leadership of Dan Wilds is what made it possible.” 

“Modest,” Travis commented. Kevin smirked at Neil. “Let’s talk about Ms. Wilds for a moment. Rumor has it you ran with the Minutemen for a bit.” 

“I did. They were kind enough to take me in and I had nothing to lose in helping them. Dan helped me to adjust to life above ground and I was grateful.” 

“So, what brought you to Diamond City then?” 

“Well, Travis,” Kevin interrupted. Neil was grateful not to be the one to answer the question. “I’m sure you read the article Allison Reynolds put out. No one could resist her coverage of Neil’s time at the Combat Zone, from what I’m told.” 

“Ah, of course Reynolds was the one to crack the case,” Travis joked. “You good folks listening can check out the complete Neil Josten story in the current edition of Publick Occurences. I’m just surprised her newspaper decided to focus on something other than the mayor for once.” 

Kevin laughed breezily despite the discomfort in his eyes. “She definitely goes for the hard-hitting stories.” 

“For sure, for sure.” Travis moved his questioning back to Neil. “So that’s it then? From the Minutemen to the Foxes to standing at Kevin Day’s side. What will be next?” 

“Next,” Neil echoed. 

Travis laughed. “You’ve already made a name for yourself down at the Combat Zone. You have a loyal following in Goodneighbor. Foxes to back you and Kevin Day at your side. Minutemen and Railroad agents at your disposal. What’s next? Should raiders be watching out for you to help people take back their settlements? Or another trip to the Combat Zone, perhaps?” 

“There’s plenty more to come,” Kevin said smoothly. “From both of us.” 

“Yes. I don’t doubt that.” 

It was the perfect place to end a broadcast. So Neil felt dread begin to seep itself into his veins as Travis shifted uncomfortably. 

“Well, there is of course one last thing that the people of the Commonwealth are dying to know, Neil. Given the infamous article that came out recently in Publick Occurrences, and the newest broadcast from the Brotherhood, is there any comment you would like to make about the Brotherhood, or to them?” 

“That, really won’t be necessary—” Kevin started. And Neil saw it, the fear, the refusal for defiance. It filled him with the same inexplicable rage he had felt during Riko’s broadcast. Neil was moving before he could process it. 

“Actually, I would,” Neil said, leaning too close to the microphone. 

And he did have things to say, because it was bullshit. Completely bullshit that Kevin should be afraid of Riko when it was Neil who actually had something to lose. Kevin had glory and victory and a reputation and fuck him for cowering behind Riko, but more than that fuck Riko. And fuck this situation as a whole.

“There’s been a lot of talk, apparently, about Kevin and me, and the Brotherhood. And how the Brotherhood doesn’t take kindly to dissent when there only goal is protecting the Commonwealth. So I have a very direct question to ask Riko. And that’s this: If you’re only true concern is protecting the Commonwealth, then why even bother focusing your attention on either of us? Now, maybe he has a very clear, very convenient answer to that question. But me? I’m betting he doesn’t. No. See, I think that Riko can’t stand the fact that Kevin has a better reputation at helping the commonwealth than he did working with the Brotherhood.” 

Kevin’s hand shot out, reaching for Neil’s forearm, trying to pull him from the microphone. Travis looked stunned. 

“And instead of focusing on using the resources they have at their disposal, resources the Foxes could never hope to have, Riko has decided to focus his energy on the one thing he can’t have and can’t control. And for me? That’s more than a little suspect, Travis. His solution to the entire situation is to offer Kevin a spot in the office instead of the field. It’s selfish, wanting to keep Kevin with the Brotherhood and refusing to give him what he really wants—to be on the field. To be the best on the field. Because he’s scared of what Kevin will actually accomplish without the Brotherhood holding him down.” 

“You’re implying Riko Moriyama, leader of the Commonwealth’s Brotherhood is afraid of the Foxes?” Travis reiterated. 

Kevin was tugging at Neil now, desperately clawing into his skin. 

“Neil,” he said sharply. Travis put a hand over the mic to muffle the shuffling in the small radio shed. 

Neil yanked himself away and pulled the mic from Travis’ hand. “That’s right. Riko and Kevin have always fought side by side. Now, they’ll be competing against one another. People are finally going to know who their real protector is. Who really should have been leading and who should have been following orders all along.” 

Kevin clamped his hand hard on Neil’s mouth and dragged him out of the shed, but Neil was already going, leaving Travis to close out the broadcast. 

When they exited, Kevin threw Neil against the ground. 

“What the fuck was that, huh?” He demanded. 

Neil shot up, getting in Kevin’s face. “It was the truth. They don’t control you anymore. Stop acting like it. Riko already sees us as the enemy, there isn’t any point in keeping up a facade of pleasantries.” 

“You _idiot_. It’s called survival.” 

“It’s called cowardice. How the hell are you supposed to save anyone else when you won’t even save yourself?” 

There was slow clapping and both Kevin and Neil turned to see Andrew perched on the roof of the radio shed, staring down at them. 

“Impressive performance, boys.” 

“Shut up,” Kevin said bitterly. 

“Boring,” Andrew sang as he slid down the roof and onto the ground. He walked back down the alley towards Wymack’s, beckoning Neil with a hand over his shoulder. “You two idiots come with me, your presence has been requested at Reynold’s. Afterwards, you can have your meltdown in private, Day. Once you’ve consumed enough alcohol to have a spine, of course.” 

Kevin, pissed as he was, seemed content with that. 

Kevin stopped Neil from walking ahead with firm hand on his shoulder. “We will talk about this later. All of this. Alone.” 

Neil didn’t bother with a reply, Kevin would find him when he wanted to talk after all. He headed off for Andrew wordlessly.

Outside of Allison’s apartment, Andrew motioned for Kevin to enter through the door ahead of them, stopping to block Neil’s path before he could follow. 

“Not quite, death wish.” 

Andrew reached his arm up and dug his fingertip directly in the center of Neil’s forehead. He kept it there, but the touch lightened a bit, steadying Neil in a way he didn’t realize he needed. 

“They’re aiming right here. How’s it feel?” 

“Familiar as the target on my back.” 

Andrew dropped his hand but Neil leaned a bit into the movement, following the touch until the last second of broken contact. 

“And now? I bet you’re planning an escape route.” 

Neil didn’t deny it, but even he wasn’t stupid enough to think he could get anywhere before ending up dead. He wasn’t even convinced every move he was making right now was being monitored. 

Andrew was staring at the ground intensely, but he was all teeth as he smiled. He laughed, the sound humming behind his closed his lips. 

“Stupid,” he muttered. Neil didn’t bother to wonder who he was referring to. “You’re too stupid to see your way through this, so I’ll spell it out for you. Riko can’t get in contact with his father. The Brotherhood is at war with the Institute. And there isn’t exactly an open line of communication either way.” 

“Okay.” 

Andrew only had so much patience for his confusion apparently. 

“Riko can’t do anything about handing you over to the people your parents worked for, because there is no communication allowed between him and his father and brother. He’ll fuck with you, sure. Make your life hell anyway he can now that you’ve pissed him off on the air. But he won’t deliver you to the Institute. Knowing him, he’s also wondering if he can use you in his favor. Leverage you for control of the Institute somehow. Meanwhile, the Commonwealth knows your name. Use that.” 

“Use it?” 

Andrew let out a big sigh and pushed off from the corrugated sheet metal of Allison’s house he’d been leaning against. He moved closer, as though having their bodies closer would help him break through Neil’s stupidity. Andrew’s eyes were disarming. So much so that Neil felt strangely naked. 

“Kevin has a reputation. People would die for him. People _have_ died for him.” 

“You expect me to do the same?” Neil couldn’t help the self-deprecating smirk that rearranged the features on his face. His smile was wide. His fingers twitched with urge to rip it off his own face. “Create a wall of bodies between myself and the Moriyamas?” 

Andrew didn’t say anything in response. He moved closer a bit more, examining something in Neil’s eyes. Neil wondered if just by looking at him Andrew could tell that Neil had already done that. He wondered if he could see it clearer the harder he stared. Though Neil would hardly consider his casualties _willing,_ there certainly had been plenty over the years. It was a tactic Neil was competent in utilizing. 

“Kevin is a hero. He’s won a dozen battles, given people hope. You think people would just do that.” Neil felt the need to clarify, and he couldn’t keep the disbelief from manipulating his voice into something thin and flimsy. “For _me_?”

Andrew squinted his eyes microscopically. He stayed there for a moment, and the moment felt more disarming than Neil had felt when he had given Andrew his half-truth, when he’d asked to stay. 

“Like I said, you’re stupid,” he decided, moving away. “You use the time you have now to make them. They don’t need to _love_ you. That’s Kevin’s thing. But nothing travels like a story in the Commonwealth. Obviously Allison can help with that. But it also means being a public face. No more hiding behind Goodneighbor and your half baked lies. The broadcast was a good first step.” 

“I’m surprised you aren’t gutting me alive for that.” 

“Well, you are lucky in that I so happen to agree with you about Kevin. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have made it through your little speech without me shooting your through the ceiling of the radio shed.”

Neil shook his head, trying to get back to what Andrew was suggesting Neil do about the Riko situation. “You really think the solution to my problem is more people watching me?” 

“You aren’t thinking logically.” 

“Never thought it would be you to say those words to me.” 

“What do I need to do to keep you here?” Andrew said suddenly. It was a strange a question as any, but stranger still that it should come from Andrew. It knocked Neil a little off balance. 

“Keep me here?” Neil echoed. 

“If I wanted to hear my words repeated back to me, I’d train your mutt to do it. Now stop being obtuse. What do I need to give you to keep you here and onboard?” 

“Why?” 

“You know what, never mind. You’ll get more answers later. Travis’ broadcast got me thinking.” Andrew entered Allison’s without a glance backward.

* * *

 

The Foxes, apparently, were not prepared for Neil to “go rogue” as Matt referred to it. 

“I mean, awesome, but holy shit,” he articulated unhelpfully.

It had been twenty minutes of recap with the Foxes. Mostly, of recounting the exact ways that Neil had stuck it to Riko. 

Renee stood quietly near Kevin, who was sandwiched on a couch between Aaron and Andrew. Kevin was still pissed, but after twenty minutes of strategy talk with Allison he seemed to get more on board with the potential for Neil to ride the momentum of his broadcast. 

“Advertise. Do what you have to do. People need to see firsthand what he is capable of if we are going to tell this story,” Allison advised. 

“And they need to see what we can do together,” Kevin said finally. 

“Forever the optimist,” Andrew said lazily. 

“Day’s right,” Allison said, looking solely at Neil. “We are talking full works here, kid. Combat Zone, group fights, helping settlers, taking down raider posts.” 

“That’s on top of getting into the Institute,” Matt said skeptically. He turned to Neil. “You know, you don’t have to do any of this. There’s no reason why you should be dragged into a fight that isn’t yours.” 

Andrew smiled wide. “Neil knows what he has to do.” 

Matt took a step closer to Neil, blocking out his sight of Andrew and spoke earnestly. “I’m being serious. No one would judge you if you just wanted to get out of this mess.” 

It was a sweet notion, really. On a base level Neil could understand that. He just shook his head and smiled a little. “I’m fine, Matt. Really, I’m going to be fine. I _want_ to do this.” 

Matt looked less than convinced, but stepped away. “Alright.” 

When Neil looked over at Andrew, his face was fixed into smug interest, one eyebrow raised and slim smirk on his face. Neil had to look away.

“Combat Zone is the quickest way to build on this momentum. It isn’t far out of the city, and after Neil’s mouthiness people are dying to see what he can do in a fight.” 

“We’re coming fresh off a raid, Allison,” Matt pointed out. 

“And? You know Renee is going to be off in decoding land with the new plans she snagged. And it’s the closest place to continue this. Not to mention, it will give me time to figure out the rest of the campaign and align it around this whole Institute business.” She turned back to Neil. “You’ll head there straight away, and I’ll rally up some formidable opponents for you to fight. Real scummy. You’ll play for people’s land. You win, the raiders give it up.” 

“You want people to put the fate of their settlements in my fighting abilities?” 

“Low level stuff. A farm here or a campground there. We aren’t talking about real settlements or anything, but enough that you show you’re a person of the people. Garner sympathy, inspire confidence, all that bullshit.” 

Neil was less than sold, and he waited for Kevin to object—to remind them that Neil was useless in a fight. When he didn’t he waited for someone else to step up. He felt sick when no one did. 

With Neil’s plan decided, everyone went off with their collective groups. It was a lazy rush of getting ready that kept the house filled with energy. Allison ordered a few bowls of noddles from Power Noodles in Diamond City Center and everyone took the opportunity to fuel up. It seemed that the injuries everyone had sustained from the raid had been taken care of while Neil and Kevin were on the radio, and besides taking bets about Neil’s success rates at the Combat Zone, there wasn’t much to do but wait for the cover of dark to grant them some privacy before moving out. Renee and Allison busied themselves with Matt, fiddling with the radio signals in search of a decent music broadcast. Neil sat with them as he picked at his dinner, not particularly eager to deal with Kevin or Andrew. They made little jokes, teasing each other and teasing him, and it was strange to be around so much laughter. It made Neil feel severely out of place. 

At some point, Neil felt a tentative tap on his shoulder, turning to see Nicky standing before him with a bundle of dark fabrics in his arms. 

“What is it?” Neil asked. 

Nicky’s eyes flicked towards the others, who were too preoccupied recounting some story about Dan to pay proper attention. 

“New clothes, for your big debut.” 

“I don’t need new clothes,” Neil said quickly. “We’re living in a radioactive wasteland.” 

“Right, next time Andrew says to get you outfitted, I’ll just tell him no. Sounds wonderful,” Nicky said as he pushed the new armor into Neil’s hands. “You can’t keep wearing those piecemeal scraps of clothing. First of all, they are a ridiculous eyesore. Secondly, you are about to become the face of a rebellion against the Brotherhood. Trust me, the public is shallow. Now, change.” 

Neil grumbled his disagreement but took the clothing anyway.

“You can use the room in the back to change,” Nicky said as he pointed for where Neil should go. 

It was black, all of it. But the armor was light-weight, some kind of carbon fiber material. The boots were comfortable and with a weight in the heel that gave him some creative ideas for dealing with Andrew. For dealing with Andrew’s whole lot, in fact. 

When he emerged Nicky let out a low whistle and gave an appreciative survey of Neil in the clothing, but otherwise kept his mouth shut. 

“Nice upgrade, vault boy,” Allison said with a quick cursory glance. 

Neil’s eyes immediately found Andrew. He was already looking at Neil, a bored expression on his face. Neil felt immediately suspicious, looking down the clothing and tugging at his pants. When he looked back up at Andrew, he was already looking away. 

Neil remained dressed in the clothes, transferring his belongings from the first set of armor to his new one, and packing away the rest in his backpack. 

When it was time to leave, Andrew stayed seated. Neil followed his lead and stayed back waiting for the room to empty so they could finish their conversation. Kevin hesitated by the door for a moment before closing it behind him, leaving Andrew and Neil to complete silence. 

“I need to know if you can really keep your word on what your promised me,” Neil started. 

“You think I would make a promise if I couldn’t keep it. How little you think of me,” Andrew said with feigned shock.

“Look, I’ve never had to rely on anyone for protection before. When my parents died, the only protection I knew was running. And before that, my mom’s only protection was explaining to me how to run, if it ever came to that. It goes against ever instinct I have to believe you.”

“Honesty, you hear me?” Andrew gestured between their bodies. “That’s what this is here.” 

“ _Honestly_ , I don’t trust you and I don’t like you. But that doesn’t answer my question.” 

“It does make it easier though.”

“Easier?” Neil asked. When Andrew didn’t respond, Neil gave up trying to figure out what he’d meant. “You really think you can protect me, from my past, from the Institute. Their reach is…” Neil couldn’t quantify it. 

“Sounds like a real mess,” Andrew said unsympathetically. He waved a hand into the air. “Easy enough to deal with though.” 

“Easy enough,” Neil repeated in disbelief. “And the Brotherhood?” 

“I already told you how to deal with them. Leave the rest to me.” 

“But why?”

“I won’t answer questions you’re too lazy to figure out for yourself.” 

“It’s Kevin, his interest in me as a soldier.” When Andrew didn’t say anything, Neil knew he was right. “So, what if he loses interest me?” 

“Find a way to keep it.” It wasn’t a suggestion. 

“Andrew,” Neil started. He wasn’t sure what it was he wanted to say, but there was desperation in his voice. 

“Look,” Andrew said, hooking a finger under Neil’s chin and pulling up fiercely so Neil’s eyes met his. “You already know the truth. You’re not okay and you never have been. Your parents are dead. You live in a wasteland. You’re not fine and these problems won’t go away. But from now until you take down the Institute you are still Neil Josten and I’m still the man who said he would keep you alive. One day, you might decide to believe me. And on that day, you will not run. You’re going to remember what I promised you and you are going to let me do what needs to be done. Tell me you understand.” 

Neil could do nothing other than nod. Andrew dropped his hand from Neil’s skin. 

“Now. If you’re done with your issues, take your turn. Kevin will have an aneurysm waiting for you.” 

Neil meant to ask about Kevin. He wanted to know why Andrew was putting up with all of Neil’s issues to begin with, what their promise entailed, but his mouth betrayed him. 

“Nicky said the gunners were a sore spot for you.” 

“Not a question,” Andrew sighed, staring up at the ceiling. He was splayed out in a chair, limbs strewn about. Neil could tell he was sobering up. It wouldn’t be long before 

“Why are the gunners a sore spot for you?” 

“Right for the jugular. You’re getting less and less spineless throughout the day,” Andrew said, his body fixed in the same position. “Sore spot is an interesting choice of words to describe the feelings of a man who feels nothing. I’m sure Nicky told you the whole brothers reunited arc already.” 

“Nicky mentioned some of it.” 

“Then you know my mother gave me to the Gunners when I was a baby. The Gunners are mercenaries. Soldiers for hire, pawned off to the highest bidder. As a child, I was sold for quite a bit,” Andrew said, finally pulling his stare away from the ceiling with a smile. He pointed to his own face. “Unsuspecting, I was told. No one expects a five year old to shot someone on sight, apparently. They are the ones who first put me on the chems I’m too addicted to stop taking.” 

“Quit,” Neil suggested. 

Andrew laughed. “Quit, says the rabbit with a death wish. I tried six times, just to see if I could. No luck.” 

Neil waited for Andrew to continue. When he didn’t, he couldn’t help himself, despite how much Andrew had willingly shared. 

“That’s not the whole story,” Neil said knowingly. 

“You’re right. Feels familiar, doesn’t it?” 

Neil allowed that point, if only to keep Andrew from asking questions about Neil’s past that could put him in a compromising position. 

“Okay. You don't want to be associated with them because they put you on the drugs? That’s why? What is it you actually want?” 

“Nothing.” 

“I thought we were practicing honesty.” 

Andrew moved quickly, hands wrapping around Neil’s neck. There was a spike of adrenaline that rushed through Neil’s chest as Andrew’s thumbs pressing sharply into the hollow of Neil’s neck, but he didn’t try to pull away. He was aware Andrew could feel his pulse, which was likely the cause of Andrew putting his hands on Neil in the first place. 

“I don’t want anything at all. From anything or anyone. Is that clear enough for you to understand?” 

“So Kevin’s just a hobby?” he retorted. There was a small smile that played on Neil’s face. Andrew returned it with an unimpressed stare. 

“Stop looking at me like that.” 

Neil’s smile grew wider and Andrew released his hands. Neil wasn’t sure why it didn’t feel like a win as Andrew walked away.

 

* * *

Given Neil’s new reputation and Kevin’s everlasting one, it was a decision made by the Foxes that Neil and Kevin slip in to the Combat Zone through the back cellar and navigate their way to the basement while the others got everything set up. 

Andrew, in a move that surprised Neil, chose to head upstairs with the others after he deposited Kevin and Neil underneath the stage to wait to be called up. He didn’t say much, in fact no one did. None of it helped Neil relax. He hadn’t spoken to Kevin about any of the Riko situation and he was terrified of what Kevin thought of him at this point. 

“I’m surprised you agreed to this.” 

“It’s the right move,” Neil said through clenched teeth. 

“The right move would be running, Nathaniel.” 

At the sound of it, Neil stomach lurched. His neck cracked in the speed it took to whirl on Kevin. 

“Don’t call me that and don’t tell me to run. Don’t fucking say anything, actually.” 

It was silent underneath the stage. The only sound that came through from above them was the dulled stomping of the audience above. 

“I didn’t know at first,” Kevin said quietly. “But after you talked about being in Kellogg’s mind, with the room full of the person that killed your parents, I kept thinking about it. I knew that room. It was filled with the Butcher. I remembered he had a son, and a wife, they were keeping somewhere hidden. Then, after Riko let you and Boyd leave the Prudential tower, Jean sent me a private radio signal disclosing it to me, and after he told me, I knew he wasn’t lying.”

“You didn’t say anything.” 

“I was waiting for us to be alone.” 

“But you didn’t tell anyone?” 

“Of course not. Besides, it wouldn’t make any sense. They don’t understand the implications of a pre-war criminal syndicate, what that means for you.” 

“Riko wants me to take you back to the Brotherhood.” 

“I know.” Kevin wouldn’t look at Neil, and it made Neil’s skin crawl, seeing him this affected by Riko. 

“I won’t take you to the Brotherhood.” 

At that Kevin let out a pathetic little laugh. “Not that Andrew would let you anyway.” 

“Andrew thinks I should put myself in the public eye. The more people that are watching, the more suspicious it will be if I disappear.” 

“They can make your death look like an accident in a dozen different ways.” 

“So, you think it’s pointless.” 

Kevin sighed. “Notoriety can’t save you from this. You know too much. The Institute has killed people for worse. But more than that, you’re a lose end to the power that is reserved for the Moriyamas. Not to mention the hatred the Butcher has for you escaping not once but twice.” 

“But—”

“The master wants to salvage you. He won’t tell the Institute he’s found you so long as you keep your head down and follow orders at this branch of the Brotherhood.” 

“I’ll never do that.” 

“Then run,” Kevin insisted. “You’ve done it before. It’s the only way now.” 

Neil closed his eyes and tried to breathe.“No. I could only barely outrun them before. I won’t make it.” Neil continued on even as Kevin started protesting. “I don’t want to run. I don’t want to be the butcher’s son. I want to be Neil Josten. I want to stay with the Foxes as long as I can. Do you think we can infiltrate the Institute, cripple the Brotherhood?” 

“We have a chance to get into the Institute if people start pulling their weight and there aren't any more distractions amidst our own ranks. We won’t make it through anything with the Brotherhood now that Riko has you on his radar.” 

“That will have to be enough,” Neil said. “You’ll still train me?” 

Kevin stared hard at the ground. “Of course,” he said, before shaking his head. “It shouldn’t have ended like this for you.” 

Neil didn’t say anything to that. He couldn’t say anything, not without losing his sanity. He’d never been gripped with the feeling that his life was unfair. Unusual, and terrifying at times. Definitely not ideal. But never unfair. Not until now. Not until he had almost believed in a freedom he wasn’t entitled to. The bitterness rose up his throat, flooded hismouth and sat heavy on his tongue. 

“What does Andrew want?” he asked. 

Kevin stared at him blankly, utterly confused by Neil’s random change in conversation. Neil, realizing this, took a moment to explain. 

“Andrew knows I have a price on my head, even if he doesn’t understand exactly what that means. But, he said he’d protect me. Not _for_ me, but because of you. What’s going on between the two of you that has him risking so much?” 

Kevin laughed hopelessly. “I made a promise to him. He’s waiting to see if I can keep it.” 

Neil continued staring at him, prompting him to continue. 

“Andrew on drugs is essentially useless. Nothing compares to Andrew off his drugs. He has neither purpose nor ambition,” Kevin said. “No one had ever looked at Andrew before and told him he was worth something. I was the first to do that. His first boss, the one that blacklisted his runs unless he were on drugs, swore that the difference between a drugged Andrew and a sober Andrew saved his life in the Commonwealth. Joyless and destructive, that’s what they called him.” 

“So, you expect him to get sober and suddenly realize he likes playing savior?” 

“Andrew isn’t stupid. He can have a life, one that means something. When the fifty forms of chems he’s on are out of his system for good, he will be able to think for himself again. I will have an easier time getting through to him.” 

“Good luck,” Neil said. He meant it, and that surprised him. Stunned him to silence even. 

“I take it you haven't told him yet,” Kevin said after a moment.

“I wasn’t planning on telling anybody. I didn’t expect anyone to find out.” 

“That was your first mistake.” Kevin’s voice was quiet, muted. One glance in his direction reminded Neil of the hold the Brotherhood and Riko had on Kevin. 

“Will you tell him?” Neil asked. 

“I can’t. He won’t respect your decision.” 

Neil nodded. 

They waited the rest of the time in silence, too lost in their own minds to bother with communicating. The crowd above them was growing impatient, Neil could hear it in the sharpness of their stomps, in the clattering of miscellaneous metal, in the disconnect of their chants. But Neil felt calm. He even felt eager to perform. He hadn’t ever anticipated that he would enjoy violence, but after the first few tastes of violence in the Commonwealth, he didn’t need to wonder how people could enjoy destroying others. And now, with the prospect of it directly above him, he couldn’t help a smile from crawling across his face. This was a complete lack of restraint. The ability to let himself lose with none of the repercussions he had lived his life knowing. This was control, over his own situation. Over his own life. 

It was knowing he could die a hundred ways he’d never been worried about before, even if he ran, that kept Neil steadfast in his decision. There was too much he didn’t know, too much he had no hope of getting ahead of. But Andrew knew, and Andrew promised to protect him. That would have to be enough for now, until Neil could find a way to make himself disappear for good. 


	24. Familiar Faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew's gang runs into a few surprises as they head back to Diamond City.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you all get mad at me for writing three other fics before updating this one...I genuinely have no other excuses except motivation. For some reason this chapter did not want to happen. I'm not particularly proud of it. It's mostly set up for the next two but it needed to get done and so here it is. 
> 
> Sidebar: It is GREAT to be back. I'm getting pumped just being able to talk to some of you all in the comments again. I missed this fic and I missed all of you! I hope you all enjoy it! Thank you for reading and commenting. As always, kudos are appreciated :)

It was almost sickening, how deeply invested the audience seemed to be into all of this Neil Josten business. Almost as soon as Neil smashed in the face of his first opponent, spectators were on their feet. The yelling was a natural by-product of the violence set before them, but it was the way the audience looked at Neil that had Andrew wanting to choke on his tongue. 

It was the kind of look usually reserved for Kevin. But typically, most people were too afraid to stare so directly at someone so untouchable. They did not have that problem with Neil. Maybe it was the controversy or the dodgy way he seemed to exist--always searching for an exit, giving himself away before even opening his mouth--that had people feeling entitled when it came to gaping at Neil. As Andrew moved closer, he saw the subtle transformation in the eyes of his admirers. When he stepped into the ring to join Kevin and Neil, he knew most of the people in the crowd were smart enough to understand what it meant. 

Neil, however, couldn't contain his surprise. He and Kevin were off in the back of the ring, catching their breath and waiting for a new opponent that wouldn't come. 

"Didn't expect you to fight," Neil said. 

Andrew didn't bother to give an answer. He focused instead on Kevin who looked pleased with himself. The smugness that tugged at his lips made Andrew want to step out of the ring on principle.

"No one left. No one wants to face the Great Kevin Day and his distinguished sidekick." 

"Yes, well." Kevin's voice broke off with a tight nod. "They were getting slower to find opponents for us." 

"Not many volunteers after the first guy." Andrew turned back toward the crowd. They were already settling down, finishing sips of beer and grumbling to one another about the end of the night. 

"We shouldn't stay much longer anyway," Kevin decided. 

"Why not?" Neil demanded. He glanced first at Kevin and then Andrew, apparently expecting the answer on their faces. 

"Besides the obvious? Riko will be looking for you now. Maybe sending some of his own down here." Kevin spoke slowly as if Neil was intentionally obtuse. Neil looked about ready to protest, but Kevin turned to Andrew. "Lead the way." 

Andrew saluted him and made a dramatic point of turning about face. As they descended out of the arena, the crowd's boos filled their ears. But with Andrew at their front and the mess they had made of their opponents, no one bothered to try and stop them. 

As they exited through the back of the Combat Zone, the other Foxes were there waiting for them. Nicky stood standing a bit smug. Right next to him was Dogmeat. 

Dogmeat rushed past Andrew to jump at Neil, making small noises as he pushed his head into Neil's palm. 

Neil was surprised, and slightly off-guard, as he leaned down into Dogmeat's space to pet at him. 

"How'd he get here?" 

"I picked him up from Goodneighbor," Nicky explained, watching Neil closely. The other foxes were busy talking strategy with Kevin. Only Andrew was watching them. "Had to pick up a few supplies for Renee to start building the transmitter." 

Neil looked up at Nicky, who had a broad smile on his face. Andrew saw the discomfort of surprise at Nicky's kindness wrap its way around Neil's throat. 

"Thanks," Neil said thickly, dropping his gaze back to the dog. He scratched quickly behind Dogmeat's ears before standing upright. He brushed off some dirt from his knees before his eyes found Andrew's.  
His expression changed slightly, something like recognition seeping into his features. Nicky seemed to notice, sending Andrew a questioning gaze. 

"We should head back," Nicky said tentatively. 

Andrew kept to the back of formation as the Foxes made the short walk back to Diamond City. It was late and silent in the city. Years of debris and trash lined the street, creating small hills they had to balance delicately on top of. As they passed South Street Station, climbing over and on top of an overturned bus, Andrew watched the careful way Neil allowed himself to enter the space the other Foxes had created for him. Matthew and Nicky stood on either side of him, chatting amicably as they walked through the streets. Every so often, Neil would turn back and make eye contact with Andrew. Andrew ignored the small twitch in his side every time Neil found his eyes and took instead to recalculating when he would need his next dose of chems. 

It seemed the night was full of surprises. As the foxes entered Diamond City, someone was waiting for them at the bottom of the stadium steps. Matt pushed past Neil quickly to rush down the rest of the stairs, scooping Dan up into a tight hug. She was grinning ear to ear and laughing, and Andrew watched as all the tension she usually held in her frame faded. 

The other Foxes quickly surrounded her, but as she saw Neil, she pushed past the rest of them. Her hands clamped tight around his shoulders. 

"You're alive," she joked. There was a tightness in her voice that Andrew had learned to associate with Dan. 

Neil laughed a little uncomfortably and scratched the back of his neck. "You too." 

"Just barely," she told him before turning towards the other Foxes. "Renee will be out soon with Allison. We are moving to the Sanctuary so you all can start building." 

"The sooner, the better, I'm assuming?" Matt asked. 

Dan nodded tightly. "Grab whatever you need. Wymack is leaving the detective agency to Abbie while he's gone." 

"A quick run to Arturo's?" Nicky asked. 

"I'm set. There are a few things at the Sanctuary that I keep stocked up on," Matt said, his eyes never leaving Dan's face. 

"Let's go," Aaron said quickly, pushing past everyone towards Diamond City Market.

Nicky followed behind, falling into step beside him. Andrew, Kevin, and Neil followed them in silence. There was still evident tension between Neil and Kevin and now was neither the time nor the place to question Kevin on it. 

Nicky stilled suddenly, stopping so abruptly that Neil had to step to the side to avoid colliding right into him. He said a single word, so breathlessly, Andrew wasn't sure he'd said anything at all. He repeated it, louder, a second and then a third time. 

"Mama?" And when that didn't work. "Maria?" 

A woman, not that far in front of them, turned suddenly away from the robot she had been haggling with and dropped what was in her hands. 

"Nicholas?" She averted her gaze away from her son's face. Andrew stepped from behind Nicky and moved in front of him. Maria took a step back. Dogmeat, who was suddenly at Andrew's side, let out a low growl, squatting low to the ground as he assessed the woman. "Aaron, Andrew. What are you three doing here?" 

"That's a question for you to answer," Aaron said. 

She bent slowly to pick up the roll of duct tape she had in her hands just a moment ago and lifted it feebly in the air. Her eyes stayed trained on Dogmeat, glancing up to Andrew every so often. "Picking up some supplies." 

"I can't believe you are here," Nicky said, utter disbelief in his voice. 

Her glance flicked nervously to Andrew, who was shooting her a pointed look to be on her best behavior.

"Yes, well." She shifted minutely, taking in everyone who was suddenly watching her. Her eyes glanced back to Andrew before settling on Nicky. "Your father and I were thinking of reaching out to you, actually. All three of you." 

"Why's that?" Aaron demanded before Nicky could speak. 

She fixed an annoyed gaze on Aaron before setting her features into something softer. "We're family. The last we have, and we should consider moving on. It's the heavenly thing to do, after all." 

Andrew started laughing slowly. 

"You should consider coming by, the three of you, sometime soon. We want you to come." The words came out of her constricted throat and almost sounded genuine. 

"Not in this lifetime," Aaron replied. 

"Probably not in the next one, either," Andrew reaffirmed. 

"Yes, well. You should consider it. We might not all be around to make it to a second chance." 

Nicky took a step forward. "Mama?" 

Maria turned back to the stall, returned the duct tape, and walked into the crowd before Nicky had a chance to take another step forward. She was lost to their eyes in another moment. 

"Let's go," Aaron said, turning towards Arturo's stall. "We need to get the fuck out of here." 

Nicky followed behind, clearly stunned, but Neil only had eyes for Andrew. He waited approximately forty seconds before he dropped his voice low. 

"What was that about?" 

He kept his eyes on Kevin, Aaron, and Nicky, who were handing over caps to Arturo in exchange for boxes of ammunition. Dogmeat was dancing lazy circles around the two groups, keeping everyone in check before settling next to Neil's side. 

"Your nosiness knows no bounds, does it, Josten?" Andrew said evasively as his eyes swept over the crowd. 

Neil must have caught on. "Nicky seems pretty upset." 

"Yes well seeing a mother who has turned their back on you, might do that." 

"I wouldn't know," Neil said honestly. Andrew wanted to hit him for it. 

"It seems like the sooner we get out of here, the better it will be though," Neil added. 

"That would be correct, Neil. Good to see at least that component of your accuracy is improving." 

"You're being evasive." 

"Bold of you to name it." Andrew flicked his eyes towards Neil. "It's not my story to tell. Ask Nicky why his parents are so shitty if you really want to know." 

Aaron, Kevin, and Nicky came to stand in front of them before Neil could respond. 

"Done," Nicky announced. "If no one needs anything from Wymack's we should head out." 

"We're fine," Andrew said, leading the group towards the back wall of Diamond City. "Let's go. We'll meet the others at the Sanctuary." 

"We're not going to tell them we're leaving?" Neil asked as he sped up to Andrew's side. 

"A big group heading North is only going to attract attention," Andrew said. 

"Besides, with Riko after us, it's better not to put anyone in unnecessary danger," Kevin added. 

"You agree with him? We're a team." 

Kevin shrugged wordlessly as they slipped through the back gate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update won't be for at least two and a half weeks. The HS I work for is about to enter dreaded finals time, so I will be busy grading about 200 essays and 350 exams. 
> 
> Expected update date: Nov 10th 
> 
> Bother me on tumblr: @gladiatorgrl 
> 
> Read my other fics if you like my style! (shameless self plug)  
> Stick It AU: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16358390  
> Kill Bill AU: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15901065/chapters/37060341  
> Sibling AU: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13067883/chapters/29893311
> 
> Got an idea you want me to write? Got an update to any of the fics you want to see? Want a plot point I've left out so far? Reach out! I promise I'll answer (even if it will be late)


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